


The Vessel

by slutforcavill



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Emotionally Constipated Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Forced Pregnancy, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has a Big Dick, Minor Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Protective Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Reader and Jaskier are like siblings, Smut, Tags will be updated as the story progresses, Witchers are sterile but Yennefer has spells up her sleeves, even though they are not blood related, this is going to be a slow burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-15
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-13 08:39:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 39,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28775466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slutforcavill/pseuds/slutforcavill
Summary: You realize you've made a mistake of selling a part of your body to a certain Witcher and his Mage, Yennefer, in return for a lumpsum of coins.And now, you cannot back out. Instead, you're drowning knee deep into your developing feelings for Geralt of Rivia who belongs to her.[18+ Content |  Completed ]
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Reader, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Reader
Comments: 61
Kudos: 201





	1. Chapter 1

You stared at the happy couple, jealousy brewing in the pit of your stomach. You felt deflated, hurt and angry, but this was how it was. You were just a vessel, for _the Witcher_ , and his lover, _the Mage_ , Yennefer of Vengerberg. You kept watching them, from the corner of your eye, yet you kept a safe distance, lest either of them saw the tears spurting down your cheeks at the sight of them, laughing together— though _technically_ she laughed, and he just grunted, but you could see the _not so hidden_ amusement in his eyes.

It hurt, nonetheless—

If a month back, you knew this is what you would be feeling; one month down the line; you wouldn't have landed yourself into this mess of a situation, just for a pouch full of coin. You would have steered clear from a certain white haired man, _eyes bright and somber like the shining sun_ , perhaps even brighter, and his woman, one of the most powerful mages you had come across.

If only, someone had warned you before—

It didn't help; the fact that you were already struggling to feed yourself, have three meals a day worth grain at your shack, that you called a home [back at Redania].

It all started when one day, Yennefer of Vengerberg, as she introduced herself, ended up at your doorstep, asking for _your_ help, in return for a massive pouch full of coin.

 _Coin enough to last you for almost two years_ —

You found yourself lost in thoughts— when a month back, you were tending to your sheep, rearing enough wool so you could knit yourself a blanket warm enough to last the Winters. You didn't know where she came from; it was only later you found out that she was a mage, and she could use portals to go anywhere in the world. What you didn't understand then, and could not understand till date was why they chose _you_.

Maybe the Mage could feed on your desperation— knowing how badly you were looking for a steady job so the coin could keep flowing. And then, there was a fact that you were a virgin— not yet ruined by any man, and this was exactly what she was looking for.

"Can I help you?" You asked the woman, eyeing her from the corner of your eyes, your eyesight trailing over her richly clothed form. She looked divine and exotic, draped in rich princely colours, red and gold.

She looked right at you, her lips curling into a devious smile. She nodded to herself, although satisfied, and took her own sweet time to finally respond, "You can help me. _And I can help you_. I heard from the villagers that you are looking for work. Isn't that right?" 

You nodded, placing the wool into a basket. 

"Well then, I'm here to offer you a job." 

A job she did offer, only you didn't know what to think of it. She sat there by a chair next to your fireplace [ that so obviously needed more wood ] , her left leg elegantly draped over her right leg, her posture poised and regal, her eyes scanning your face as it contorted into a series of emotions— _shock, numbness, anger, hope._

The job that she so generously offered to you was the job of a vessel. What she wanted of you was your womb, a vessel that she could use to grow her child. 

Hers and Geralt of Rivia's child—a spawn that was to be created of her magic.

Neither Geralt, nor Yennefer were fertile. They couldn't conceive, biologically, but magically, this was possible. Yennefer told you everything— how she could finally become a mother, a yearning she had buried into the pit of her heart ever since she had buried the little princess, Queen Kalis' daughter, into the sand that day.

It wasn't until she met the white haired man, and an attraction flared, did her desperation for a babe began strumming into her heart. And she passed on this desire of hers to her lover, like a contagious disease until the two of them wanted nothing more than to bring a babbling young _half Witcher half Mage_ into the world.

Her spell, although, could fertilize the Witcher's seed, turning him potent for this once, however, it wasn't enough to turn her own barren womb into a vessel that could carry their child. They needed a woman, a human— _untouched_ — so Geralt could _ruin_ her, and she could give them what they desired. 

Yennefer also knew that no woman would agree to this, unless she offered something of value.

It was easy for you to agree.

Neither did you have a family, nor a lover. Besides, an opportunity had walked up to your door yourself, and you couldn't push it away. 

But now, a month later, you regretted it. 

When you saw them together, and it felt like your heart was being sliced through, slowly— _torturing and burning you from the inside_. 

“Behold, what a fine view you have here, don’t they look beautiful together?” Jaskier was the first one to have decided to intrude into your private space, so suddenly, you were forced to pull your gaze away from the two of them, and crane your neck to your side so you could subtly wipe your tears away.

“Define beauty, Jaskier.” You grumbled under your breath your words barely audible, and you felt the Bard sit down next to you, his arm now brushing against yours as he swallowed a mouthful of ale before turning his head towards you.

“Like.. _my songs_? Although, they’re much beautiful than those two over there,” he almost began, but you cut him off abruptly, pushing yourself up to your feet, looking down at him.

“Can we not talk about this, Jas’? I’ve got better things to do.”

“Like what, [Y/N]? Sit in a corner and cry a river like you were doing a few seconds back? Don’t think _the bard a dumb brute_ , I see things.”

Your lips parted in surprise. He had caught you. You sheepishly blinked, running your hand absentmindedly through your hair, shaking your head as you denied it, “What is that supposed to mean?”

He sighed, but didn't make an attempt to stand up. Instead, you watched him sit back, trying to get more comfortable as a smile broke out against his lips, "If I were you, I'd tell him _how I really feel_. Now I know you've got competition, a pretty _fierce_ one, might I add, but what's the fun if you get everything handed to you in a silver platter, and you don't have to work for it?" 

"Jas—" 

You had barely begun speaking when a fight broke out in the tavern, between two men that you didn't know, right across from where you were seated, and Jaskier's attention was flung away. You watched, in exasperation, as he began cheering all of a sudden, and Geralt, a few tables away, clenched his fists and pursed his lips in annoyance, leaning and whispering something into her ears. 

You watched as the beautiful mage slowly rose from her place, and fixed her gaze on you until she was on her way to where you were. 

"How are you feeling, little pet?" She raised an eyebrow, and you bit your lip, almost too hard, the taste of metal strong against your taste buds. Oh, how you fought the urge to bark at her and send her back to her beloved, who had his eyes, unmoving, on the two of you. 

"Fine." You muttered, fighting the urge to roll your eyes at her. 

You didn't understand why you hated this woman. 

No, _you did_ — but you didn't want to acknowledge it— it was because of a certain white haired man, who still had his gaze stilled on you, and you couldn't help but feel like your insides were on fire aching for his touch. You wondered how one look from him was enough to weaken your resolve, what would you do if the man ever brushed his hand against you, or even breathed in a close proximity as the Mage was now in?

_Stop thinking about this, [Y/N]. He isn't yours to think of._

"Come on, it's time we keep moving, can't afford to waste two hours as the Sun's already up." 

You blinked, cursing yourself for feeling so flustered but what could you do? This was the first time you had heard the Witcher say more words than the occasional hums and grunts directed towards you.

You and Yennefer began walking out of the tavern, Jaskier following the two of you, while Geralt was ahead of the two of you, as you began continuing your journey to the Great Mount in Aedirn, a journey you had been on with them now for over thirty days. 

For once, you couldn't stop your racing heart from thinking of what was going to happen between you and the White haired man once you reached this Mount.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takes two to make a baby.

The Great Mount stood tall, the only place that Yennefer's portals could not open a door to— and this journey from Redania which had lasted over thirty days had finally come to an end.

And it was finally _time_ —

Yennefer smelled like dirt and lavender at the same time, and not a single strand of her hair was out of place, as she hopped off Roach and you followed, getting off the mare so Geralt could tie her to a nearby tree.

The summit of the Mount didn't look unusual, like you had expected but you noticed how there were massive boulders lined in a circular shape with carved imprints on it.You remembered Yennefer telling you about this place once— it was like a sanctuary for the mages, a place that had its own sanctity, that not even the most powerful mage could open a portal to reach here faster. It was like all the spells and all the magic outside of this place was cut off, and the Mount stood disconnected from it all.

Your heart was now thumping wildly inside your chest, and Jaskier could feel it. You felt him place a comforting hand on your elbow and you turned towards him, giving him a frightened smile. You knew he could understand how you wanted to back out now, but you were too knee deep into this little tryst that even if you tried, _Yennefer will not let you go._

You looked at the Witcher, noticing how he now sat against one of the shallow heighted boulders, sharpening his sword. It looked like he was least interested in what Yennefer was now doing, but there were times his eyes lifted and fixed on her and then he withdrew them again. You frowned, forcing yourself to look away as nervousness slowly drained your insides.

The man didn't even _look_ at you— and it won't be long when this man will be ruining you, fucking his seed into you so you could carry their spawn.

Jaskier nudged at your arm, and it was only then that you realized that Yennefer was calling you, and Geralt was already there, "Jas', I'm not ready for this. Tell me I can run away." You whispered into his ears, and his low chuckle reached your ears.

"If you didn't have a viable womb, I would have said, run away and she won't follow you."

You knew the bard was right; you couldn't run away, Yennefer would find you with a blink of her eye. Slowly, you exhaled, your fingers nervously fiddling with each other as you walked up to where Geralt and Yennefer were, your steps slow and forced. Your knees felt like they were going to give up beneath you. 

The minute you reached Yennefer, her hand lashed out, abruptly grabbing your wrist, her dagger slashing against the flesh on your palm. Instinctively, you let out a hiss, trying to yank your arm away but her hold on it was strong. She held a wooden bowl underneath your bleeding palm, letting all your blood collect until there was no more oozing out of the wound. She then let go off your palm, and you pulled it back, wincing as you pressed it against your chest. 

You couldn't help yourself when you lifted your tear filled eyes, but found the Witcher's eyes fixed on you. He was standing face towards you, almost towering over you, his white hair messily sticking to the side of his face, but that didn't seem to bother him. His face held no expression whatsoever, but you could feel his burning gaze on you, that looked even more fiery because of the colour of his eyes. Geralt gave Yennefer his palm much more gracefully, and you watched as she made a cut on his palm and he didn't as much blink when his flesh was cut. He then squeezed the blood out into the same bowl that had your almost coagulating blood in it until the bowl was brimming with red until the top.

Yennefer moved away, holding that bowl in her hand until she was kneeling inside the circle of boulders. You could see her lips move, as though in an enchantment, her hands drawn out and hovering over the bowl. 

After a few minutes, her chanting stopping. She stood up, the bowl still in her hand as she walked up to the two of you and her gaze turned towards you. 

"Drink, both of you," her voice lacked any emotion.

"If this doesn't work—" Geralt began, in his low, irritated voice, but Yennefer's nostrils flared, and she looked at him with looks that could kill, causing him to grunt and stop speaking as she cut him off.

"It will work, Geralt. It _has_ to work." She snapped, handing the white haired man the bowl. All the while, you remained quiet, but you could sense it— their relationship was not as ideal as it looked like, and there were cracks that were beginning to form. You watched as Geralt brought the bowl to his lips, and he swallowed a mouthful of the blood, until a droplet was trickling down the side of his lips. He then handed the bowl to you and you looked down at it, swallowing bile before your trembling hand brought the bowl up and you also took in a mouthful, although swallowing it was difficult than what you had imagined.

* * *

You thought it was awkward at first when not just one but two pair of eyes were gawking at your naked form while you and Geralt performed the ritual of being slathered by the remaining blood— _by each other._

But you couldn't deny how soft Geralt's hands felt against your skin, his touch having a raw, tantalising effect on you. His fingers brushed adeptly over your breasts as he spread the coagulated blood over your velvet skin, and it wasn't like _you didn't notice_ , but instead bit your lip to refrain from letting out a moan when a barely audible groan erupted from the Witcher's lips, the minute he felt how taut and erect your nipples were.

He guided you to the ground so now you were laying right in the middle of the circle, your face shot upwards towards the starry sky. His fingers moved, rather gently, from your breasts down your waistline until he was running his fingers against the insides of your thighs, causing a sudden heat to pool up in your core. You knew what he was doing— he was indeed preparing the lamb to be slaughtered, yet your body didn't want him to stop. 

"Geralt, fuck her senseless and get it over with. Fill her up until there's not a drop left inside of you." 

Geralt grunted in response to Yennefer's words, ignoring her as she walked off, grabbing the bard's arm as she pulled him along with her, something you were thankful to her for. You didn't want them to stay and watch the two of you fucking on display.

"Call me when you're done, _my love,"_ her cold, distant voice called out.

Geralt let out a throaty grunt, straight from the pit of his throat. There was no denial inside of you, this man was beautiful, _beyond beautiful. But you had grown up to understand that all things that were beautiful on the surface were in fact, corroded from the inside._ And so was the Witcher. 

" _Open your legs_ ," he ordered, his voice low and overbearing, just like a command that you knew you had to follow. Geralt's eyes darkened when you listened to him, without hesitation, his wolfish stare fixed on you as you spread your legs for him, your core heated up and aching for him already. There you were, dripping wet for the man to take you, the way he wanted to and he grunted in appreciation, his slick finger sliding through your folds, making you arch your body and let out a mewl.

"Look at you, little pet, _all wet for me_ already when all I've barely done is look at you," he rasped through your ear, while at the same time, a second finger slid through your folds and instinctively, your hands flew to the back of his head, your fingers coiling around his hair, your breathing hitched, and it surely didn't help when he began grunting and whispering against your ears again, "Goin' to fill you up until you're all swollen with my child."

 _And Yennefer's—_ You reminded yourself.

With a swift, almost effortless movement, Geralt grabbed you by your hips, lifting your lower body up and pushing your legs to rest against his shoulders, his raging, massive cock already lined with your entrance. This was it—

Without giving you a warning, he pushed his swollen head into you, trying to be as gentle as he could, for he was aware that this was your first time, thus giving you the time to get used to his size as he stretched you up. You couldn't hold back the scream that escaped your lips— a scream that was a mixture of your anguish and your pleasure both.

You felt weird; on one side the burning was clawing out the tears from your eyes, but at the same time, the pleasure was making you begin to shudder, your hips automatically aligning yourself to his as you adjusted to him. His hands flew to your breasts, while at the same time, he released a grunt of pleasure and began rocking into you.

His thrusts into you were a mix of both— gentle when he thought that he was hurting you and quickly picking up pace when your nails instinctively dug into his sides, and he felt you trying to squirm underneath him, knowing that this was your body's way of telling him that it wanted— _needed_ more.

" _Fuck_ , so tight," he let out a groan, as he completely pulled out of you, leaving you all hot and heavy, your core throbbing wildly in rebellion against the sudden withdrawal, before slamming into you again, "Look at you, taking me so well." 

You didn't realize when you closed your eyes, your vision going blurry as an overwhelming pleasure shot through you and your orgasm took you. You couldn't help but gasp, your jaw falling wide open into a perfect o, as a loud, screeching cry of pleasure shot through your lips. Your screams, in turn, were met with with even deeper thrusts by the Witcher, his cock ravaging you as he fucked you even harder at the sound of your cries— his own mouth unable to contain a chain of curses and guttural cries of pleasure that flowed effortlessly through his lips.

Geralt's movements finally became sloppy, until, with a guttural groan, he finally collapsed over your tiny frame, his sweaty face pressed against your blood caked shoulder until you felt his cock twitch inside of you, his hot seed filling you up. He rolled off and landed on his back next to you, the two of you staring blankly at the sky, the only sound the two of you could now hear was the sound of each other's breaths. 

Neither said a word, until you didn't know why, you rolled over to your side, and let your head rest against Geralt's bicep, and what surprised you even more was the fact that he didn't shove you off, and instead, his heavy words invaded your ears, " _Are you okay?_ " 

This was the first time you felt any kind of warmth towards you from the Witcher, and you didn't know whether it was the after effects of sex, that you suddenly felt so emotional, tears brittlly threatening to spill from your eyes. 

" _I am, I, uh_ —"

You began speaking but immediately clenched your lips shut when you heard the familiar voices of the Mage, and the bard, getting closer and closer towards the two of you. 

Geralt stood up, throwing out his arm towards you, and you looked up at him, your eyes meeting his amber ones briefly, and you placed your palm in his, effortlessly being pulled off the ground, when the bard finally emerged, with your clothing in his hands. 

"Tell me all about it, later, " he winked playfully at you, having handed you your clothes as you began sliding your tunic on.

"There's nothing to tell, Jaskier." You pressed your lips together, not wanting to look into Jaskier's eyes. What were you supposed to tell him? How good it felt having Geralt of Rivia inside you?


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yennefer and her spells can never go wrong.

It had been weeks since you slept with Geralt of Rivia, but you hadn't been feeling any different. If it were up to you to say, you would say that Yennefer's plan didn't work— although you couldn't muster the courage to ask her directly if it did. 

What made you so sure that the plan hadn't worked was the fact that Geralt and Yennefer had been fighting about something since a few nights and you could feel the strain in their relationship starting to show up. This hunch that you had only strengthened when one day, you unknowingly stumbled upon an argument between the Witcher and the Mage. 

It was almost a week after that night on the Great Mount. Geralt had been indifferent towards you since then— not even bothering to spare a glance in your direction when the four of you were in the same proximity. 

You were now back at Redania— your home, but so were Yennefer , Geralt and Jaskier— staying at _your_ place like _unwanted guests_ who were exceeding their stay. 

Jaskier held two heavy logs in either of his arms, while your own hands were stuffed with the eggs from your coop, that you were intending to cook up for dinner tonight, when you heard shouting from one of the rooms upstairs. 

" _It was you that said that the plan would work. It didn't work, clearly_." 

You could recognize Geralt's voice from afar; broody, low and devoid of any emotion. 

"Aren't you going to go check in on them?" You turned towards Jaskier and frowned, your eyes shooting upwards, fixing on the topmost stair before you withdrew it and fixed it on him again. 

"Me? Stuck between a _broody Witcher and a scary Witch?_ God save my poor soul then." Jaskier commented back as he placed the logs by the fireplace and began to light it. 

"Jaskier—" You couldn't help but smile at him, as you placed the eggs on the table and blinked, turning towards him, "Yennefer isn't a witch, she is a mage. Besides—" 

Before you could complete your sentence, Yennefer's shaky voice reached the both of you, and you couldn't help but wonder what was actually going on between the two of them.

_"I don't understand what's gotten into you, Geralt. These things take time. Why won't you let the spell take it's due course?"_

_"Yen, your spell failed. It's high time you pull yourself off this high pedestal and realize that."_

You shook your head to yourself as you busied yourself with trying to prepare the stew for dinner, but your ears were fixed on them. 

_"You don't question my spells, Witcher. I know what I'm doing. Besides— now to come to think of it, did you even fuck her right?"_

Jaskier couldn't help but snort, but when he looked at how red you suddenly were, he immediately masked his expressions as he propped himself next to you. 

"Did he, [Y/N]?" 

"Jaskier, I'm not having this conversation with you," You shook your head at him, exasperated that he was still bugging you with this question, "Now can you please help me out? I need help with the stew, Jas'." Jaskier stood up, whistling to himself as he fixed himself next to the pot, stirring it while you began working on getting the bread ready when the door above slammed shut and heavy footsteps began descending down the stairs. Both you and Jaskier turned to see a very annoyed Yennefer walk towards the front door, without her Witcher in tow, just like he already was.

"I've got some business to attend to in Novigrad, Jaskier." She pointedly ignored you, and you couldn't help but bite back the words threatening to spill out of your mouth. _Living under your roof_ , she was behaving like you were an outsider. Secretly, you were thrilled that she was leaving , even though it was for a short while.

You watched, through the window as a portal suddenly emerged just outside of your barn, and she disappeared through it, leaving you and Jaskier gawking at each other, Jaskier finally speaking, "I say, _trouble in paradise_?"

"It's none of your concern, Jaskier. You really need to stop meddling with other people's businesses. Now would you be kind enough and go ask your friend to come down? Dinner's almost read—" 

"Jaskier, come on now. We're leaving." Geralt cut you off as he finally appeared, all dressed in his tunic and breeches, his sword peeking out from behind him. You parted your lips, ready to ask him where he was off to but it was like he had already anticipated that this was going to come, so finally he looked at you, but with the same indifference with which he had treated you so far. 

"It's time we move on. _Keep the coin_. Seems like Yennefer's plan failed after all—" 

The sheer coldness in his voice stung you like a thorn but you didn't let him realize that. Slowly, you lifted the cloth, wiping your hands with it, trying to act just as indifferent towards him— even though you felt like you had been betrayed, which you mentally cursed yourself for.

This was going to happen one day or the other— and wasn't it better that they were finally going to be out of your life now? And not later when they would mercilessly pull your babe away from a mother's breast and call it their own? 

"Where are we going, Geralt? We can atleast stay for dinner, a man needs to eat—" 

"We will roast a deer on our way, _Jaskier_." Geralt's irritation was evident from his tone, so the bard turned towards you, choosing now to ignore the Witcher with a sulk on his face.

"Oh Jaskier," you whispered, softly, "Don't you worry. I'll quickly pack some food for you, for the way." 

"Oh hush, woman, don't go so soft on me, I would want to switch the roles with that broody gentleman over there." 

Your cheeks suddenly felt like they were on fire; and you were sure you had turned a tomato red. You instinctively looked away, quickly finding yourself a distraction at the table as you began packing some bread and ham in a cloth satchel for him to take along with him— _fighting_ back the smile that craved to break out.

" _Jaskier_ , you are free to stay here for as long as you want, the minute I get on Roach, I am out of here," grumbling, the White Wolf slammed the front door shut as he walked off, your eyes suddenly widening, as the smile was quickly replaced by a lingering hurt upon listening to his words. Why did he hate you so much? Was it because you couldn't give him— _them_ — the child they so desperately wanted?

"Okay thank you for the dinner, and don't, like _DO NOT_ mind him, he has always been a grumpy ham." 

Jaskier took the satchel, flinging it over his shoulder, whilst at the same time grabbed his lute and immediately darted out, and by that time, the Witcher was already trotting towards the main path. You fixed yourself by the front door, watching the poor bard struggle to catch up with him and once the two of them were out of sight, you went back inside.

* * *

If there was anything that turned a bright way for you after the three of them stepped out of your life for good was the fact that you had enough coin on you now to last for atleast a year. You bought three new goats so you could milk them and sell the milk in the village, along with the eggs. 

But the _void_ remained—

The night's were the most difficult, because there were nights when you woke up to a dream where a certain white haired, amber eyed man was laying in bed with you, his thick palm resting on your waist, your back pressed against him as he spooned you. 

Maybe it was because you couldn't sleep that night too, that you did not miss the strangled groan that you heard from outside your window. You forced yourself to sit up, rubbing your eyes as you leaned over the window to look out but you couldn't see anything. Just then, someone began pounding on your front door, startling you. 

It didn't take you long to run down the stairs, still dressed in your chemise, your arms wrapped around your arms as the knocking became frantic and urgent. When you opened the door, you felt like someone _had kneed you in the gut_ —

"Jaskier?" The bard looked a mess, his clothes were bloody and dirty, his hair slick and sticking to his face. 

"I didn't know who else to go to nearby. _Geralt needs_ —" Jaskier began, and the two of you turned towards Roach. Geralt was although perched atop, he was now arching forward, his body almost limp, his head resting against the saddle. 

"What happened, Jaskier?" You ran out towards Roach, who whinnied at you, perhaps having sensed that something was wrong with her owner. You placed your palm on Geralt's shoulder, but the minute your palm came in contact with him, he grunted and looked up, and you saw how weak and pale he looked, "I told J-Jaskier — _I'm f-fine_.. Jaskier.. Jaskier.. _fuck_.. Novigrad.. I asked you to take us to ... _Novigrad_." 

Geralt of Rivia was injured, the flesh on his side had almost been ripped apart by what looked like claws, and yet he was being a stubborn pig. You grabbed him by the fabric of his tunic, balling the fabric as you began literally dragging him off the horse, paying no heed to his annoying murmurs. 

"Jaskier, can you help? I alone cannot get him off, you know?" 

Helping Geralt walk into your home was a difficult task but somehow, you and Jaskier convinced Geralt to do it. You sat the very injured Geralt by the fire and knelt down in between the space of his legs, using gentle fingers as you rolled up the torn fabric of the tunic. He hissed when your fingers came in contact with his clawed flesh and that's when you saw how massive the claw marks were. 

"Who did that to him, Jaskier?" You let go off the big man as you stood up, your hands now caked in Geralt's blood. You ran up to one of the wooden racks that stood by the fireplace with a dozen glass bottles on it. You grabbed the mortar and pestle, placing it on the table in front of you, as Jaskier lowered himself on a chair, now wiping the blood off his face with a washcloth. 

"I swear you should have seen it, it was the tallest harpy I have ever seen— _well technically_ , it's the first harpy I've ever seen," he mumbled, and you couldn't help but give him a weak smile as you began to look for the ingredients to make a paste for Geralt's wounds.

"What are you looking for?" Jaskier asked, intrigued, as he watched you fiddle with the glass containers. 

"Turmeric, Jaskier. It will stop his bleeding, although had he been human, that injury would have killed him— instantly," you pointedly stared at Jaskier, and he gulped nervously when your words finally registered into the back of his mind. You quickly turned away, resuming your search for the other ingredients. You pulled out two containers; one with lotus petals and the other one containing chamomile, placing it on the table, next to the mortar and pestle.

"Jaskier, while I prepare the paste, can you get Geralt to lie down by the fire? And take off his—" You pointed towards his tunic that was already ripped apart, hanging loosely by his side. Jaskier immediately nodded, getting to work.

* * *

You knelt down next to Geralt. His eyes were open, but his face was sweaty and his breathing was uneven; his lips tightly pressed together as he stared at the fire. Your fingers delicately moved over the gashes on his side, and he didn't flinch as much now. 

"Can you sit up, Geralt? I need to bandage your waist." 

That's when he turned towards you, regarding you briefly as he grunted, pushing himself up slightly and you quickly bandaged his wound with a cloth, securely tying it around his waist before he fell back against the makeshift bedding you had created for him by the fireplace. 

You were finally done tending to the man's wounds so you stood up, moving to wash your hands by the sink, when Geralt's voice reached you, startling you. 

"I told Jaskier not to bother you. Yennefer could have fixed this."

Your head sharply turned towards him, and you parted your lips, but it was as if your words were lodged to your throat, refusing to come out. 

"You can't put all the blame on Jaskier. _He could have left you to rot,_ stolen your mare and left, but he stuck around to ensure you were brought back to safety. You need to learn to swallow that thick ego of yours and give the bard some credit," you intentionally chose not to talk of Yennefer. 

He grunted in response, shifting slightly so he could get comfortable, his body tilted at an angle towards the fire that you could see more of his back— full of old scars— this one will be adding to it soon.

"Are you a healer?" 

His question pulled you off track. 

You shook your head, wiping your hands with a clean cloth, reaching out for one of the blankets that you had stored for yourself as a winter supply, placing it over Geralt's legs— with half a mind that you will have to fight him for this act too— but much to your surprise, Geralt of Rivia accepted the blanket, pulling it over his chest. 

"No, _not a healer_ , just a woman with a _passion_ to know things. You see, living alone you need to know certain things as you never know what life is going to throw your way." 

"Hm," he fell quiet, and all the two of you could now listen to were the embers erupting from the fire. 

The next few minutes, Geralt was quiet, so assuming that he had fallen asleep, just like the bard had; already snoring away to glory, you pulled your chair closer to the fireplace, lowering yourself against it as you began working on another blanket for Jaskier. 

"You should have said no." 

Startled to hear the low broody voice again, you looked up but this time found Geralt sitting on the makeshift bedding, the pads of his feet resting against the floor, his back turned towards the fire but his face turned towards you. 

"Geralt, you should lie down—" 

" _You should have said no to Yennefer_ , but you agreed although you knew what she wanted to make you do." 

"Says the man who makes a living _slaying monsters._ Would you say no to a good bounty if that meant being paid enough to last you a year?" You snapped at him, not meeting his gaze. 

"You needed coin, there were thousand other ways to do it." 

"Like _what_ , Geralt? Don't you think I tried _all_ these ways you are talking about?" The half done blanket now lay forgotten at your feet, and you were standing, towering over Geralt, your lips trembling with rage. _How dare he?_

"There are many brothels in Redania that I know of that would have gladly taken you in." 

"You know what, Witcher?" You spat, "I'm _NOT_ having this conversation with you. I don't like you anymore than you like me, so there's no point in even speaking. Once you are well enough, I would gladly have you out of my home." 

You turned away from him, and then blinked, for you couldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing you cry, as a thick chunk of a tear rolled down your cheek. Swallowing bitterly, you began climbing up the stairs, rather loudly, when Geralt mumbled, "You won't see us when you wake up tomorrow, don't worry." 

Ignoring him, you reached the topmost stair, but when Jaskier began speaking to Geralt in a low voice, you couldn't help but pause, inching your ear towards them so you could listen to what they were saying. 

_"Why do you insist on being like that with her, Geralt?"_

Jaskier's words were followed by what sounded like a bitter laugh, and a cough _._

_"I knew you were awake. I wondered why you didn't jump in to defend her like you always do, Jaskier."_

_"That is not the point, Ger—"_

_"If you must know why I can't stop being the way I am around her is because every single time I see her, I'm reminded of the false hope that Yennefer gave me, Witchers are sterile, and that's how it is, I should have known than to fall into Yennefer's words."_

He was hating for you something you hadn't even done. You gave him hope, or Yennefer did?

You would have stood there and continued listening to what more he had to say, but you couldn't help it— your face turning sour, when sudden nausea hit you. Your palm instinctively flew up to your lip; making you almost double over and your eyes lifted up, scanning the area for anything you could use to relieve yourself. Grabbing an empty basket that lay close by, you fell down on your knees, your knees scraping against the wood of your flooring and you began wretching out the contents of your stomach, sweat trickling down your forehead as dread filled you up. You were scared that Yennefer's spell had worked. Your palm flew to your flat belly and you pursed your lips together, blinking away the tears and wiping the corner of your lips.

Now that you had wished for the spell to fail, it had perhaps, _worked_. Maybe things weren't destined to go about the way you wanted them to— all you wanted was to watch Geralt of Rivia leave you alone for good and never come back [Wishful thinking]. But if, the spell had worked, it meant that you were probably carrying his Witcher baby, and that meant, you will have to see more of the white haired man with amber eyes, whether you liked it, or not.


	4. Chapter 4

You woke up with a shudder the next morning, greeted a good morning by the chirping of a canary that sat perched on your window but flew off the second you sat up in bed and rubbed the remainder of the sleep away. 

The memories of last night came spiralling back into your mind— Geralt being hurt, his words that had hurt you, the talk between him and Jaskier, and finally, you throwing up the remainder of your supper away— in fact, you still felt a _little queezy_. 

You wondered if Geralt and Jaskier had left, and you had _mixed feelings_ about it. A large part inside of you wanted Geralt gone, but another part inside of you wanted to embrace your friend before he left you again; Jaskier. And, another really tiny— miniscule part inside of you wanted to see Geralt off, for you knew that there was no guarantee you would see the man again, unless Yennefer's spell had _worked_. 

Maybe, now that the two had left, you could go to see the midwife in the village and confirm whether your hunch was true or not. 

You cleaned up, changing into a fresh tunic, with a half a mind to milk your goats so you could take the pails of milk to the village, while at the same time, visit the midwife on your way back but maybe the goddess of luck wasn't in your favour. 

Your entire plans went down the drain, when you realized that not only had Geralt and Jaskier not left, but the Mage was back. 

"Oh hello, little pet, good of you to grace us with your presence, finally," Yennefer placed her palm against your cheek, her padded thumb stroking over the side of your face, her eyes sparkling with joy. "You're here at just the right time, love. I was just planning to tell my love that we finally succeeded. The things I did, just to see this day. _Thank you, love_." 

You bit the insides of your cheeks, your eyes reaching out for support from Jaskier's, looking for answers as to why Yennefer was even here— but all you got from him was a cheery smile that didn't even wash off his face. 

"Get this done with, Yen," Geralt mumbled under his breath, and Yennefer's smile widened, her dark eyes falling down to your belly once before she lifted it up once again, and turned around.

"I told you it would work, Geralt. And now _it did. Come on, my love, see for yourself. Listen for yourself,_ " Yennefer's eyes twinkled as she beckoned to her lover to come over and see for himself what she already knew, and a part of you was dreading.

She walked up to the chair and lowered herself against it, sitting back in a comfortable way, her eyes drawn to you as Geralt finally moved from the place he had been standing at, by the slab and started walking towards you. 

No one spoke, and it was as if the time had stopped— until Geralt lifted his palm and placed it on your stomach, his eyes slightly widened, as though in shock. Slowly, he looked up into your eyes, and the only thing that you could describe in that moment was the heat that your face felt, suddenly. 

"I can.. _hear it. I can_ —" Geralt mumbled in a low voice, was so low that you had to strain your ears to listen to him, and finally when you did make out the words that had flown from his lips, confirming your thoughts, you realized that the look on Geralt's face right now, was maybe worth it. He looked like he had found a motive in life, a destination and wasn't left to meander on earth with nothing but to kill monsters. 

"I _don't believe_ ..."

"My spells never fail, _my love_. I told you." 

Just like you had found a warmth in your heart a few seconds back, as swiftly was it dissolved into a sudden gloom, when you watched the Mage step up, until she was walking towards the two of you— only to pause just next to Geralt, until her long arms wrapped around the Witcher's neck, and she pulled him into her, their lips crashing against each others, forcing you to look away. 

It was then Jaskier caught your eye, and he gave you a look of sadness, a look you knew too well— the look that said that he knew how you were feeling, and what you were feeling.

* * *

It was decided then.

Not by you, but the parents of your baby that one of the three were always to remain with you, at all times. They snatched away your cloak of privacy just like this, invading into your home and into your life, for a satchel full of coins. 

When Geralt had to go for a bounty, Yennefer mostly stayed, but when Yennefer had to go too, then Geralt left Jaskier behind, although he didn't stop grumbling that he was missing on the Witcher's heroic monster hunts. 

It was just another usual day— you were still not showing yet for you were only perhaps 9 weeks along and there was a long way to go. It was one of the days when both Geralt and Jaskier were home, as they had just two nights back, returned from one of the neighboring villages that was being tormented by a vukodlak. 

"I swear to the Gods, [Y/N], you should have seen that thing, it was _sort of handsome?_ " Jaskier nudged you as you sat huddled on the ground in your barn, milking your goats while the bard aimlessly sat atop one of the sacks of hay, his legs swinging in amusement. Geralt wasn't far behind, he was standing next to Roach, as he groomed her, much tenderly.

You were about to mutter some annoyed words because you were clearly annoyed for many reasons; the goats had just decide to pick today of all days to be difficult with you; on top of that, it was a hot day today, and you could feel sweat trickling down the side of your face, down your body; then there was the feeling of nausea, that you couldn't shake off, no matter how much dry heaving it caused you since the morning. Before you could speak though, Geralt grunted in response to Jaskier's words, causing your head to shoot in his direction. 

His fingers were moving in a tantalisingly slow pace, stroking over the mare's side and you couldn't help but bite your lip, your cheeks suddenly feeling hotter as you began thinking of that day on the Mount, when Geralt's fingers were all over you— until Jaskier's voice interrupted you again.

"Have you encountered a monster before?" 

You frowned, finally standing up, your hands flying to your hips as you shot Jaskier a look and shook your head, "Never been lucky enough, it seems that all the monsters reveal themselves for _your friend_ over there." 

With sarcasm in your tone, you pointed towards Geralt with your eyes, who seemed unfazed by the subtle mention towards him, even though you knew that he was pretty well listening in on what you two were talking about; Witcher hearing and all.

You slowly bent, your hand fixing on the top of the pail of milk, ready to lift it when you felt someone lift it for you, your eyes instantly shooting up. You didn't realize how the Witcher had managed to know that you were planning to do it, or how he had managed to just be here next to you in such a short span of time but he was there now. 

" _Don't_ ," he gave you a one word warning, and you frowned at him, giving him a stink eye as you stepped away and he lifted the pail effortlessly and began following you inside, ignoring Jaskier's gaze fixed on the two of you, a tiny smile on his lips as he watched the interaction between the _broody Witcher and you._

* * *

" _I could have_ walked from my home to the village like I always do, Geralt." 

You grumbled under your breath, keeping your eyes to the road ahead of you, the only feeling of someone's presence next to you solidified by the sound of his footsteps by the grunt that escaped his mouth. Although Roach was there, neither of you were riding, and it was easier to walk as the walk wasn't a long one. Geralt held on to Roach's reins, the pails fixed on either of the mare's sides. 

" _I don't need_ a babysitter _, and I'm no monster,_ what did I do _wrong_ to have a Witcher _always_ on my tail _?_ " You grumbled yet again, annoyed, although you were well aware of the fact that you weren't getting a response of the thick skinned man.

"You chose this," he muttered under his breath, not even bothering to turn his head towards you, his gaze fixed to his front, making your frown even worsen.

"I did it for coin—" 

" _Sh, wait here,"_ the Witcher suddenly shot his hand upwards towards you, his palm raised and you gulped, your words stopping that instant you saw the white haired man start walking towards the crowd of men that were gathered by the road, heavy bannisters blocking the way into the village. You instinctively crouched closer towards the mare, her warmth against your side providing you with a temporary warmth as she began nuzzling her nose against the side of your face. 

"What's going on?" You heard Geralt ask one of the men, who turned towards him and frowned when he realized who he was, however, grimacing slightly, he still spat out the words grudgingly, " _Road's closed_ , look for another way in, you can go through the forest." 

"Hm," he almost growled back as he turned towards you, and began walking in your direction. 

"We turn back around, road's closed." 

"What? We're not turning back around, we've walked half a mile and I really would like to sell off the pails I _worked so hard_ to milk."

"You know that _I can fucking pick you up_ and take you back home?" Geralt growled, now turned towards you, but you were adamant as you crossed your hands over your front, raising your chin. 

" _You try that, Witcher,_ I'm going to run away at the middle of the night when you are asleep, or busy and Yennefer's not going to like it when she returns." 

"Fuck, woman, I curse the day Yennefer _chose you_ for this, " Geralt turned away and grabbed Roach's reins once more, nudging the horse off the road as he began walking towards the forest, and you began following him. 

" _So do I Geralt_ , I curse the day I fell into her temptation and decided to go ahead with this."

He didn't reply— but you could feel his discomfort by the way his spine straightened, and he took a sharp breath.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Geralt is beginning to warm up to you, however, in his own annoying way.

You kept your gaze fixed to the front, your eyes lined to the back of the Witcher's head, his messy hair falling loosely all over his shoulder, covering the back of his neck. The forest was quiet, apart from the occasional croaking of the crickets, or a bird flying by, flapping it's wings. 

Your feet hurt, as you had walked all the way from your home, and then had taken a detour through the forest, even though Geralt had said not to. This was all the more reason you took a deep breath, swallowing away the soreness for you couldn't let the man know. No— _your ego won't permit that._

Another thing that bothered you was the Witcher's silence, which made you feel that probably it was better to have no company at all, rather than this. 

Finally, you gave up— a mixture of both, your exhaustion as well as boredom which made you stop walking, and move to the side where sat a large rock. You lowered yourself upon it, your hand instinctively flying to your boot as you pried it off and began rubbing your ankles to relieve some pressure off them. It was only then that Geralt abruptly halted, when he didn't catch the sound of you behind him.

He twirled around, his hand almost flying to the hilt of his sword out of instinct, the first thought that passed through his mind was that you were taken. It was only after a split second or so did he see you, huddled against that rock, rubbing your feet. His nose twitched, his lips pressing into a firm line as he strode towards you, the sound of his feet against the hard ground causing your head to jerk in his direction.

The next second, you were protesting— angrily lashing out at him, trying to claw your nails into his arms as he grabbed you by your arm and pulled you off that rock, without even uttering a word. 

" _What the fuck_ , Geralt? What —" 

" _I thought you wanted to go to the village_. Now, we are going to the village which means that there isn't going to be a stop. I want us to come back before sunset." 

These words were the longest words that he had formed towards you all day but his choice of words made you hiss angrily at him, regretting how you didn't enjoy the silence earlier, which was far better than this. You tried prying the hand off your arm to free yourself but the grip instead tightened, pulling you towards Roach. 

"Fuck, _what the hell_ is the matter with you? I'm exhausted and just need a minute—"

Before you realized what was happening, you felt him place his hands on either side of your waist, almost like you do to a child when trying to make them climb onto a higher ground. That's when you realized what he was doing— he was trying to get you to climb onto Roach. 

"Get on her, [Y/N]. We aren't stopping. The forest can be dangerous." 

The blow of the moment hit you right in the gut. You skewered your head to one side, intentionally biting down on your lower lip as you watched Geralt walk up to the rock where you were sitting at. He bent, grabbed your boots, and walked back up to where you were perched on his mare, both your legs on either side of it. Without taking permission, he grabbed your foot, illiciting a gasp from your end but didn't stop, as you squirmed a little, just by the surprise of the act. He easily slid your boot on your left foot before making his way to your right one and you, unknowingly, lifted your foot, without even him having to grab it.

His eyes flew to yours, and you noted the faintest of the smirks that crossed his lips, before he removed the gaze and began working on your right foot to get your boot on, and you smiled, now that he wasn't looking at you. 

He then moved away, back into the position he was earlier in— the only difference being that you weren't walking next to him any longer. He took hold of the reins again, as he began walking, as you held on tightly, even though the horse was only galloping in a slow pace. 

After about five minutes of silence, the Witcher finally spoke. 

_"_ You could have said _thank you."_

He was facing the front so you couldn't clearly see, but you were sure he was smirking internally. You rolled your eyes, your hand mindlessly flying to your belly and grumbled under your breath. 

_"Nope._ I'm carrying _your baby,_ which makes it _your duty_ to take care of me _."_

He turned his head towards you, his amber orbs meeting yours halfway, and the look he gave you— his lips curved into the tiniest of smiles over his otherwise serious, brooding face; made blood pump into your body faster and cheeks flush. If it wasn't enough, your mind couldn't stop the thoughts to slither back into it like a snake, the image of the Witcher on top of you, his thick arms pressed to the either of your sides, your legs wrapped around his waist, _his cock sliding in and out, in and out, in a rhythm, his balls slapping against your skin._

Suddenly, a loud screech rang through the air startling you, and Roach at the same time, making her stand up on her hind legs, panic stricken _._ A bloodcurdling scream broke out from your lips as you lost your balance the moment the mare got out of control, your body falling backwards towards gravity as your eyes reflexively closed, your body waiting for _a sickening crash._

_But the blow never came—_

When you opened your eyes, you were in Geralt's arms, his thick arms holding you like a bride, but his eyes were trained to his galloping mare, who was galloping away. 

"Roach, she's ..she's running away, oh my god," you cried, just when Geralt placed you back on the ground and drew out his sword _._

"She'll come back, you get behind that rock—" 

"Geralt, _what the fuck_ was that noise?" You blinked, your eyes concentrated on the side of his face, though he was looking around, his sword ready, and his posture tense. Your words made him grunt under his breath and turn towards you, just for a split second, but he was looking at you with frustration, before you felt him grab your wrist and start walking towards the rock. He jerked you slightly, but not harsh enough to make you fall, until you were crouching behind the rock and he was towering over you. 

"Ever heard of _a wyvern?_ You'll finally get to see one yourself." 

You gave him a look of pure horror, as you slid down against the ground, keeping sure to stay hidden behind the boulder, your arms locking around your knees, when the screech came again, but this time, it didn't sound distant at all. His hand held a tiny vial of what looked like a coloured liquid, and he quickly downed the contents of it. After that, it took mere seconds for Geralt's eyes to turn into a monstrous black, causing you to shudder.

A loud, bellowing screech filled the air once again, and that's when you looked up to see the wyvern circling above in the sky. Your breathing hitched and for a minute you forgot why you were crouching, you were just so awestruck at the sight of it. Without knowledge, you stood up, staring at the sky when you heard Geralt scream. 

"I asked you to _stay down!_ " His voice was sharp and angry, instantly pulling you back to reality as the wyvern finally came swooping from the sky, descending straight towards Geralt, who was distracted, his eyes on you. 

"Geralt, _watch out!"_ You screamed out, your eyes thrown wide as Geralt, upon your warning, jumped back around, but a second too late. The Wyvern slammed into the Witcher, sending him flying through the air, his back cracking against a tree bark as he crashed and slumped against the ground, groaning. The blow was enough for his sword to drop from his hand, the impact having caused him to be thrown away from it.

"GERALT!" You cried out, a little too loudly, crouching out a bit so you could see him, which turned out to be a _rookie mistake_.Your eyes threw themselves open, your lips almost trembling when you saw the wyvern turn slightly, so its monstrous yellow orbs were fixated on you. 

"Uh, _Geralt_? That thing is _staring at me?_ What the fuck do I do?" You croaked, a lump forming in your throat when the creature screeched, the jabbing screech directed at you. You quickly stood up, pressing yourself to the tree, your eyes helplessly looking at Geralt who coughed a little and groaned, struggling to pull himself up. You bit your lip hard, so hard that your teeth almost nipped into your lower lip, the taste of metal flavouring your taste buds. 

You had a few seconds to act now— for the Wyvern was already charging in your direction. 

"[Y/N] _, RUN! THROUGH THE FUCKING TREES, RUN THROUGH THE TREES!"_ Geralt's yelling pounded through your ears, and he was asking you to run, but the sword— the sword was too far away from Geralt, and it was much closer to you. If only you could grab the sword, toss it to Geralt and then run towards the trees, Geralt will be able to strike this creature from behind, you thought to yourself, in that split second between life and death.

Geralt pushed himself up on his elbows, growling from the pit of his stomach like a wolf, his eyes ablaze. The wyvern, however, had gotten bored toying with the Witcher it seemed. He kept racing towards you, momentarily flapping it's wings as he lifted in the air and circled around for a bit before darting straight in your direction. 

You screamed, knowing that what you were going to do was sheer madness, but yet, something inside of you prompted you to run towards the wyvern, towards the sword, and not away from its into the trees, like Geralt had asked you to. Your calculation wouldn't fail. 

Ignoring Geralt's thunderous scream, you grabbed the sword, sweeping it in your palm, your fingers clasping against it at the right time as you threw it out in the air, towards Geralt, screaming, "Geralt! _The_ _sword!_ " 

He caught the sword at the exact same time as you turned away, missing the wyvern's claw by a mere second as you began darting at full pace your legs could carry you, towards the trees. 

Geralt growled once again, as he stood up, raising the sword as he began charging at the wyvern, who swivelled back to face him, when he jumped in the air, the blade of his sword slashing into the wyvern's wing first which disoriented the creature, who retreated to the ground, howling in pain.

* * *

You knew you were supposed to stop— but _you couldn't bring yourself to._ Maybe it was the adrenaline, that was making you keep running, deeper and deeper into the forest, using the canopy of the trees to cower over you. Behind you, you could hear the creature screeching, until the noises finally came to an end. 

You finally stopped running, looking up to realize that you were by a glistening stream _._ Falling to your knees, you placed both your hands into the icy cold water, splashing some to your face, instantly feeling the cool wash over you and provide you with some temporary relief. Instinctively, your palm flew down to your belly as you stroked it twice over the fabric of your dress.

You waited for a few minutes, knowing that Geralt would find you. 

He _did_ find you.

About fifteen minutes later, you heard slight rustling from behind a thick shrubbery. You squinted your eyes, glaring at it, when suddenly a mass of familiar white hair flashed at you, the eyes now gone back to his normal goldens. He was limping, a deep gash having formed on his right thigh, that you could see. 

His lips were pressed into a firm line, his eyes lined on you, a look of rage plastered all over his face. 

By one look at his face, the first thought that propped into your mind was, you were so _fucked_.

"Geralt, I—" 

He charged at you, his hands coming to rest on either of your arms, his hold not gentle in any way as he pulled you into him, looking down at you, while you looked up at him. 

"I told you." 

"That sword was right there, I had to go for it—" 

" _NO, YOU DIDNT_. I _ASKED_ YOU TO RUN FOR THE TREES, [Y/N]," his grip on you was hard and unwavering, his fingers digging into your flesh as you tried to wriggle free but were obviously, unsuccessful in that attempt. 

"STOP, GERALT!" finally, you screamed with a finality in your voice, one which forced the Witcher to let go off you, but you didn't step away. In fact, you placed your palms on his chest, and pushed him hard with all your might. He did not even move an inch. When you looked up at him, your tears had finally betrayed you. You couldn't control yourself from letting out a weak sounding sob, straight from the pit of your stomach as you moved away from him, and began wiping the dirt off your knees with the river water, whispering, "let it go please. It's over. I'm safe now." 

Geralt waited for a few seconds, unsure— a thousand thoughts running through his mind looking down at you, but he couldn't find the right words. 

So, he cleared his throat, and in a low voice, walked up to where you were kneeling down, and knelt down next to you, not looking at you, but rather into the air around him, as he mumbled, "You're hurt?" 

You snorted, more in annoyance and frustration, and disbelief at how easy it was for him to go from cold to warm. You glared at him, throwing him daggers from your eyes, not wanting to give him the answer he wanted, but that's when your gaze fell on the gash on his thigh. 

"No, you are, Witcher," you whispered in a low voice, and he looked down at his thigh, then back up at you, giving you a grunt before he stood up, throwing out his hand towards you, "I'm fine, now come on. We _keep_ moving." 

You took his hand, and he pulled you up, but you grabbed his wrist tight when he let go off your hand, pulling him back, into your face, so it was inches away from yours.

"You're hurt, Geralt. We aren't going anywhere until I've made sure _you'll live_." 

A ghost of a smirk crept over his lips for just a split second, and had you blinked, you were sure you would have missed it. 

"I'll live. It will take more than that to kill me." 

You were about to reply, come up with a good come back, when you heard the familiar sound of the mare's whinnying, causing both you and Geralt to turn towards one of the thickets, from where Roach trotted out, and Geralt smiled, when he took in the sight of his favourite four-legged companion. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yennefer doesn't like you, and now you know why. Are you going to do something to make her believe that it's not how she thinks like, or are you just going to go with it, because secretly you know that what she just said to you, is in fact, the truth? Geralt is finally beginning to open up to you, but for how long?

"How about this, [Y/N]?" Yennefer stood in front of you, her fingers running through the fabric of a pale, cream coloured silk dress, with dark red borders. If there was one thing that you could bring yourself to commend Yennefer for was her taste— the dress she was looking at was fit for royalty. 

Yet, out of spite, and out of the fact that you had been dragged out on early morning, woken up from your sleep to accompany the mage on her quest to get you a nice dress, when she had the power in her to _magically_ do those things pissed you off. And then, there was the fact that you were to be presented, on full display, at a celebration she had organised. You— the vessel— a ruined woman— who was carrying a Witcher's baby, for her. 

You had a lot of clothes that you still somehow managed to _fit_ into, as your belly was a little rounder, and one could see the outline of a burgeoning baby bump, if one was to look carefully. But tell that to the Mage, who was right now standing in one of the village shops, looking for a dress for you. 

"Um, it's good," you whispered, crossing your arms over your chest— you just wanted to leave. 

"Good that you like it. Once my baby grows within you, you're not gonna be able to fit into those shreds anyway," she said, eying your plain dress in an almost distaste, and you suppressed the urge to scoff.

"We'll take it, how much for it?" She curled her lips, and the older looking woman smiled wide, excited that she was getting some business as she informed the Mage that it would be ten coins. 

Once Yennefer had paid off the woman, she tossed you the dress, and you groaned, catching it midair, and just like that, you began following the woman again, like a lost puppy.

Finally, the two of you were out of the shop, and you felt like you could breathe again. You waited a few seconds, for the way she had brought you here, you assumed she will do the same— open a magic portal, grab your hand and pull you in. When she didn't, you frowned and turned towards her, questioningly, only to find her staring at you, studying you. 

"Uh, _what?_ " 

"Nothing, _love_."

There it was; that fake sweetness, once again, ringing at the back of your mind, prompting you that something bad was to come.

"I hope you know that Geralt's _never_ going to look at you the way he looks at me, right?" 

You glared at her, your lips parting in surprise but she placed her index finger to your lips before you could even say anything. To her, you were like a little lamb, taking their first steps.

"I don't want you to end up _falling in love_ with a man that doesn't know how to _reciprocate_ those feelings."

You pursed your lips together, your eyes unwavering when Yennefer looked into them. Her fingers still rested on your chin, holding your face. In truth, you felt like a cornered animal. 

"Don't worry, Yennefer. I won't. Geralt is.." You thought for a bit, your mind suddenly turning off, and the words that you chose next somehow popped into your mind just randomly— words that you regretted saying almost instantly post saying them, " _Used goods._ " 

Her eyebrow shot up in amusement, and her lips curled into a side smirk. Her thumb began to run along the side of your face, your neckline and she smiled, her other hand reaching out and rubbing over your belly lightly, "You're funny. You're _very_ funny. Big words coming out from a woman's mouth, when you practically _tossed_ your body to the Witcher for some coin." 

"Yennefer, to be fair—" Your breathing hitched, as you took a sharp breath, and jerked her hand away, taking a step away from her, your hand protectively latching to your tiny bump, as you began stroking over it as though comforting it, "I tossed my body for some coin. You tossed the man you claim to love to fuck another woman. I think we both know how similar the two of us are, in many _many_ ways." 

Even the beautiful woman standing in front of you couldn't hide the scowl that formed on her face for a second. She lost it and immediately, turned away, flustered, still scowling, for you could hear her breathe heavy as she began to conjure up the portal, so the two of you could get back. 

* * *

You felt odd, like a fish thrown out of water amidst the flurry of mages, all around you. You knew many of them, mostly by name— you could see Tissaia de vries— you had only heard about her, and now she was right there, in front of your eyes. The funny part of it all was, that this celebration was for you, or for the baby you were gifting them with, but no one even bothered as to give you another look. _It was all Yennefer._

You reached out, your fingers clasping against the glass of sparkling water in front of you on the table, where your plate of exotic freshly cut fruits lay untouched. You pulled it up to your lips, your eyes circling around, mostly in distaste at what you saw around you. Women— which you weren't sure if they were just illusions created by spells, or real, dressed in nothing, their naked bodies on display — walked around. 

On one end of the hall, you saw Jaskier. He was surrounded by a flock of richly dressed older looking women, and you rolled your eyes at him, listening to him as he sang the infamous ballad, _toss a coin to your Witcher,_ which suddenly reminded you of him. You looked around, your eyes scanning through the crowds until you spotted the familiar white hair, standing out from the rest of them.

He was standing in a corner, drinking ale, looking as bored as you were, which was ironical as this was technically his celebration too. You stood up, your glass of water still in your hand as you gracefully made your way to him, pushing your way through the naked women, frowning at the casuality of it all. Geralt spotted you making your way towards him so he shifted slightly so he he was now directly looking at you. 

"Not enjoying your own celebration?" You asked, trying to make small talk with him as you fixed yourself right next to him, leaning against the wall. 

He grumbled something under his breath, typical Geralt of Rivia style, and you couldn't help but smile to yourself as you started looking around. 

"You don't think I agree with Yennefer on everything?" He suddenly said, his voice low and heavy, that caused your head to turn towards him, "This is a waste of time." 

"Well, Witcher—" You smiled, tight lipped, bringing your glass up to your lips as you took a sip, and started looking at Yennefer, who was in the center of the hall, mingling with the guests, and nodded, "If there is ever anything that you and me can agree upon, it's this. This indeed, is a waste of time. Although—"

You eyed Jaskier; who was now laughing at something one of the women said, however his eyes were fixed on a naked woman standing by the table, her finger stretched as she beckoned towards the bard to join her, "Jaskier seems to be _enjoying_ himself."

Geralt grunted, his gaze following yours until the two of you were watching the bard, and the whore disappear through one of the hallways in the back, and Geralt shook his head.

"Why? Does your friend embarass you?" You smirked, your hand flying to the side of your face, pushing the loose strands of hair behind your ear.

"I thought Jaskier's your friend," Geralt smirked back, and this time, he didn't even try to hide it. 

"Yes, he is but he doesn't embarass me, _at all._ " 

"Hm," Geralt brought the pitcher of ale to his lips and took a sip of it, a droplet of ale running down the side of his lips. For some reason, he found himself wanting to smile.

"Well, I'll let you be. I need some air," you waved off, as you whispered, letting the empty goblet you were drinking water from rest against the table where Geralt was as you pulled yourself away from him, your arms instantly clothing around your upper body. Geralt nodded his head, as he watched you walk off.

* * *

If it wasn't for the moon shining right on top of you, you wouldn't have been able to see a damn thing as you stepped out of the structure from the back. It was silent, except for occasional high pitched screaming from somewhere inside the stone structure, and you wondered if it was Jaskier, not that it was your concern. 

Crushing the dried leaves underneath your feet, you stepped out until you were standing by the cliff, staring at the village at a distance, looking like glitter scattered over a black canvas, the tiny lights glistening. 

You unknowingly took a step backwards, only to turn rigid and almost freeze, when your back hit something sturdy, yet you knew it wasn't a wall, it was strong but it felt soft against your back and you could feel someone's breath on you, signalling you that it was definitely a person. 

You almost screamed, when Geralt grabbed a hold of both your arms, in an attempt to steady you to your feet, for you were technically, on a cliff, and one slip of your foot can lead you tumbling down the mountain. 

"It's just me." 

You didn't realize how your breath had accelerated, your chest heaving up and down, and it was only the Witcher's voice that finally managed to calm you down a bit. You took a slow step around, turning so you were face to face with him, your bodies almost touching; at least you could feel your tiny bump rub against Geralt's abdomen, but he didn't seem to mind. 

"You're not immortal," he murmured, in a husky voice. 

You raised your brow, but did not attempt to step away from him. You didn't know what it was— maybe it was the warmth that his body was radiating, that you seemed to find comfort standing so close.

"Do you think there are any _monsters_ on a cliff top?" You asked, looking up at him, wondering how his eyes were so — _bright_ — you could literally see them glowing in the dark, the moonlight falling over his face, highlighting his features. 

" _Not all monsters are dangerous, some people are too._ " 

"Touche," you smiled, still looking up at him, until there was silence, and Geralt cleared his throat, stepping away as whatever the moment was, finally ended.

Geralt kept standing by the edge of the cliff, his back now turned towards you, giving you a clear view of his sword as you lowered yourself against a rock, both your hands resting on your lap. After a few seconds of silence, the Witcher finally turned, his eyes meeting yours as he turned, but only for a brief second until he had walked up to where you were, and he was looking down at you. Almost silently, as though he had asked you to shift, you scooted slightly to your right, and the Witcher sat down too, his side brushing against yours.

"How are you?" He asked, in a low voice, the gentleness in his voice urging you to draw your lips into a smile as your fingers began toying with each other.

"I'm okay. I needed to get out. All that, I can't tolerate it. Makes me want to _throw up_. Not because of the _baby_ but—"

"Hm, she can be a little too much at times," Geralt interceded, almost immediately, and you nodded, engulfed by the famous Witcher silence once again. Involuntarily, your hands flew up to the side of your arms as you began rubbing them, staring at the sky above you until you felt an urge to look at him. 

"Geralt?" 

He turned towards you, regarding you with a bit of glimmer in his already bright irises. 

"Where would you go? I mean, where would Yennefer take _the baby_ after the birth?" 

He frowned a little, letting his head tilt slightly, as his hand flew up to his temple, his index scratching it briefly, until he relaxed once again. 

"Well, Yen, _she_ would be staying _here_. You can stay too. If you want to be close to the baby. I'm sure Yen would appreciate the help."

"No, I guess I'd go back to my own life, take care of my shack back in the village. I'll maybe get a job at the tavern, will bring in some coin—" You drawled, staring at a distance when Yennefer suddenly walked up to where the two of you were, her dark eyes fixed on the two of you. 

"Geralt, my love. There are people that would like to meet you. Am I _interrupting something?"_ Yennefer was almost glaring at you, and Geralt cleared his throat, rather loudly, as he stepped up from the rock he was sitting next to you, and walked up to her, taking her hand in his.

"No, I thought something was wrong. Just wanted to make sure—" Geralt turned towards you, "— that _everything_ was fine." 

You pursed your lips, your eyes falling to their entwined hands, and when you looked back up again, you saw the sorceress regard you with a tiny smirk egging against her lips.

"Yes, Witcher, _everything's fine_ , I don't need you following me around like I will need help all the time," Bitterness laced your words, and you swear you saw a look of hurt flash in his eyes as he regarded you once and turned away. 

_Well done, [Y/N]._ You frowned as you watched Geralt walk away, his arm wrapped around Yennefer's waist, her head resting against his bicep.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt is in a fix when he is forced to choose between honor and love. What would he do?

The celebration was over, except for a few who were to stay at guests at Yennefer's mansion had decided to stay. You were about to retire for the night, as exhaustion was beginning to claw on you; exhaustion from having done practically nothing all night but to find ways you could escape being in that hall, and attract unwanted attention.

However, it turned out that you did still end up attracting someone's attention, even without doing anything. And no, it _wasn't the Witcher._

It was almost midnight, and you were about to make your way back to the chamber's you were staying in tonight, having decided to carry your fruit plate to the chamber's itself do you could enjoy the night to yourself, when Jaskier startled you, appearing out of the blue, and plumping down on an empty bench in front of you. 

"Lords, Jaskier. You scared me." 

"Did I? I thought it will take a lot more than that to get you to scare," he chuckled, leaning forward so that his elbows now rested against the table. 

"I thought _you had company_. Why would you want to spend time with a lonely woman like me?" You smiled, giving him a raised eyebrow, in a playful way.

"I do, but it turns out, there's someone that would like to get to know you," Jaskier gave you a goofy, wide toothed smile and you frowned in confusion, leaning closer as you raised an eyebrow. 

"Well, do you see that woman over there?" You turned your head in the direction that Jaskier was pointed out, only to see a woman dressed in princely red, beautiful golden locks falling down her back, laughing at something Yennefer said. You then turned back to Jaskier, who sat more comfortably, and looked at you, " _that's the Queen of Lyria_. Yennefer knew her when she wasn't a queen. Back from when she used to work for Queen Kalis—" 

"Get to the point, Jas', I'm tired and I would like to retire to the chambers now," you stood up, blocking Jaskier's view of this Queen as you stepped to the side but Jaskier stood up after you, grabbing your wrist to stop you from abandoning him, "Would you hear me out? I really think Geralt's rubbing off on you. You're changing, [Y/N]." 

You couldn't help but roll your eyes at the sudden overly dramatic outburst of your friend, before your eyes softened and you sighed. You supposed you could listen to what he had to say, although you were sure you would most probably regret it later.

"Fine, Jaskier. _What is it?_ Now that you've compared me to that brooding Witcher, I'm forced to listen to you, just to prove it to you that _I'm nothing like him_." 

"Now _that_ —" you groaned as Jaskier pointed towards someone again, and you were forced to crane your neck subtly so you could follow who Jaskier was talking about. He was pointing at a young man, sitting in a group of men, drinking ale, "that's her bastard son, Henrik." 

"What do I do with all that?" You mumbled, your fingers hooking onto a grape as you aimlessly tossed it into your mouth. 

"Well, I've been _noticing him_ and I can see that he cannot keep his eyes _off you_." 

You scoffed, more in frustration than in any other emotion, "Well, Jaskier, if you have been noticing him, I think _you should keep him_ , I'm really not in the mood." 

"God, _woman_ , would you listen?" 

You rolled your eyes but chose to stay quiet. 

"He is rich, and he is _interested_ —" 

"I'm an unwed pregnant woman, Jaskier." 

"Well, he doesn't seem to mind—" 

"Gods, Jaskier. I'm leaving. Good night." You huffed for one final time, this time in warning and turned away, striding away from where Jaskier sighed and shook his head, bringing his pitcher of ale to his lips as you began climbing up the stairs that led to the chambers for the guests.

* * *

You sat down, the dress given to you by the sorceress lay discarded on the floor, but you felt relieved to be out of it. Just dressed in your chemise, you pried off the silk covers off the bed, and slid inside, feeling the richness of the fabric over your skin. 

You laid down, on your back, your hand resting on your stomach and your other hand under the back of your head as you closed your eyes, exhaustion taking over your body as you felt sleep slowly take over you. 

You didn't know how much time had passed, or how long had you slept for, when you woke up at the middle of the night, your sleep having been disturbed by a knock on your door. You frowned, wiping the base of your eyes as you slid out of bed, and slowly crept to the door. 

"Who is it?" You whispered, your voice barely leaving your throat.

There was no response, so you thought that whoever it was had probably left. You cursed under your breath, and began turning away from the door when there was the same knock again. 

"Jaskier, I swear to the Gods, why won't you let me sleep?" You pulled open the door, snarling at whoever it was on the other side of the door when your eyes widened and colour drained off your face. 

" _Henrik?_ " 

The blond haired man smiled, the corner of his lips almost reaching his eyelids when he realized you already knew his name. 

"Well, commoners mostly call me Prince Henrik, but I think I can make an exception for you." 

"I'm sorry, but I think you are in the wrong chambers, _Prince Henrik_ ," you began, but he cut you off once more, rather unceremoniously and began speaking again. 

"My apologies, I never properly introduced myself at the celebration tonight, I'm Henrik, Prince of Lyria." 

_Bastard Prince._

"I—" You swallowed the lump forming inside your throat, as a sudden realization hit you. You were dressed rather inappropriately. You immediately turned away, so you were now turned away from him, "Prince, I would request you to leave." 

"You _what?_ " His voice grew louder; almost like a bark. 

You began closing the wooden door, when his hand latched to it, stopping you from shutting it any further, the suddenness of his actions causing you to clinch and jump backwards. Instead of leaving, he casually stepped inside. 

"I came all the way from Lyria to see if the rumours were true." He smirked, in a disgusting way that almost made your insides churn.

" _W-What rumours_?" 

"Well, the Sorceress and that _mutant son of a bitch_ bought themselves a _whore_ , which they refuse to share," he spat, looking at you with sudden hate filled eyes. 

You looked from him to the door, but it was hopeless. You took a step away from him, but he closed that one step distance by taking a step in your direction, until you were trapped, the stone wall behind you and the monster of the Prince in front of you. Geralt's words suddenly rang through your mind; _Not all monsters are dangerous, some people are too._

"You're used to the _roadside filth_ , aren't ya? Never experienced anything royal before? Now's your chance." 

Henrik's ruby studded hands moved to the base of his robe as he slowly began taking it off, and this gave you a quick second to think, and think you did. Suddenly, your feet darted towards the door, your side brushing roughly against Henrik on your way out, the impact of it causing the man to almost topple off, but he was fast too. By the time you reached the door, and began pulling the door open, he grabbed you by your hair, a loud scream escaping your lips as he tugged on your hair and made you drop down to your knees. 

" _Ungrateful little bitch_! Which Prince in his sane mind would even look at you? You are fucking lucky I was interested," He knelt down next to you, his face threateningly close to yours. 

Suddenly, the door splintered into two, the splinters of wood flying across the room, the kick so _powerful_. Bright, menacing eyes regarded you huddled on the ground like that before the hold on your hair relaxed and you could breathe again. Before that, everything had been a blur, but now you could see clearly. Geralt had somehow kicked open the chamber doors, and now he stood, towering over you, holding Henrik by his throat, his fingers coiled around his neck, his eyes almost dark, venomous and his posture tense. 

"I think no one has ever said _no_ to you before, _Henrik_." 

"Let go off me, mutant," Henrik began coughing, as he tried to pry off the Witcher's hand, but of course, he failed. 

Just then, Yennefer walked into your chambers, her steps still exuding elegance and poise, although she had just been woken up from a deep slumber. Her eyes fell on you, huddled in a corner, your eyes shrunken back in horror, and then she regarded Geralt, walking up to him and fixing her palm on his shoulder. 

"Geralt, what exactly are you doing? _Let him go_." 

Geralt's eyes widened, his head turning towards her in a violent motion.

" _Let him go?_ Are you _fucking_ kidding me?" 

She smiled, the smile being a fake one as her fingers began stroking his arm, over the fabric of his shirt. She leaned closer to him, and whispered, in a low voice, "Geralt, honey. Can I talk to you for a second?" 

His lips pursed together as he struggled to sustain the rage building up inside him, bit by bit. Instead of loosening the grip on the man's throat, he just squeezed his fingers tighter, for two seconds before throwing him off so he landed right outside your room, his back cracking against the stone flooring. The three of you watched, as he stepped up and cursed under his breath, muttering something on the lines of— _you messed with the wrong person and you will pay for it —_ and scampered off.

Geralt shot Yennefer a glare but he didn't stay where Yennefer was. Instead, he walked up to where you were huddled on the floor, and knelt down in front of you. 

" _Are you alright?_ " He whispered in a low, husky voice, without a trace of anger or malice in it, just gentleness. 

You nodded, and looked away, fresh tears running down your cheeks as Geralt helped you up to your feet, Yennefer's stone cold stare fixed on the two of you.

"I dont— I was asleep and he just came into my chambers, I didnt—" Your lips trembling, you choking out on the words that ran out of your mouth, Geralt sat you by the edge of your bed. 

"It isn't your fault. I should have known —" 

Yennefer rolled her eyes, but the two of you paid her no heed, as Geralt moved on to tuck you into the covers again, his hand unknowingly brushing against you tiny bump. You felt his breathing hitch, almost the very instant, and he looked down at you, his eyes seeking your permission, and you nodded. Geralt's massive palm came to rest on your belly, almost covering it entirely, as his fingers brushed against the fabric of your chemise his touch gentle and soothing. 

" _I'm sorry_." 

" _Don't be_ ," you whispered, as you pulled the covers over your body and Geralt pulled his hand away slowly walking up to a fuming Yennefer, and the two of them walked out and the sorceress chanted some spells to create a barrier over your broken door that wouldn't permit anyone to enter your chamber, _especially Geralt._

* * *

" _Geralt didn't mean it,_ Queen Bagan," Yennefer arched forward, her elbows grazing against the table the next morning, as she found herself sitting with the Queen of Lyria, and the Prince. She looked from Bagan to Henrik, who was obviously hiding his neck from public view, a scarf wrapped around his neck.

"Yennefer, I didn't come all the way from Lyria, to Redania to have my son be offended by your _lover_." 

Geralt, who had been sitting next to Yennefer, seemingly quiet, let out a low pitched grunt and the bastard Prince lifted his eyes, fixing it on the Witcher and muttered a curse under his breath. Geralt straightened, and almost immediately, the tension was thick on the dinner table once again. 

Yennefer's hand latched itself to Geralt's thigh underneath the table as she squeezed it lightly, signalling her lover to let her handle it. 

"Queen, Geralt didn't mean to do what he did, the circumstances were not so good when he found your son, in our vessel's bed chambers." 

"She is a _woman_ , Yen, not a _fucking piece of commodity._ " 

" _She's a whore_ ," Henrik muttered, only to elicit a growl from the Witcher's end once more. 

"Well, Yennefer. Lyria has been supportive of you. You are one of the most powerful mages there is, and we have been supportive of you, sheltering you and being allies. Now, you do know what this means. It means that this makes us enemies with Tissaia de Vries, even though we do not like it."

Yennefer sighed, her fingers clasping around the goblet of wine as she pulled it to her lips and took a sip of the sweet liquid, swishing it around inside her mouth before swallowing it. She nodded. 

"But now, how do you suppose we continue to support you when my son has been humiliated like this, and for what? _A Redanian whore?_ " The Queen spat, through pursed lips and Geralt's eyes shone, with unrelenting rage. 

"Queen, [Y/N] is not just a whore, she is carrying our baby. I am not trying to cover up the actions of my lover—" she turned towards Geralt with a look of disapproval, but before Geralt could retaliate, she had already turned away, "I am just trying to show you that this baby means everything to us." 

"I suppose," the Queen nodded feigning a look of understanding as she reached out for her own goblet of wine. She then turned towards Henrik, who leaned closer to his mother as he began whispering something into her ears and she smiled. 

"Yennefer. I think we can come up with a truce," Bagan smiled, her glance moving from Yennefer to Geralt, and then back to the sorceress, "Sell her to us. It seems my son has taken a fancy to her. And would like to keep her in _his bed_." She said, not even trying to mask her shameless forwardness, "Once the babe is born, of course. Until then, Henrik would be behaved, I assure you." 

Yennefer smiled, the corner of her lips reaching her eyes. She was about to open her mouth, when Geralt intervened, his fist slamming against the table— the impact causing the queen's goblet of wine to spill over. 

"She isn't a commodity for sale. And we reject your _truce_." 

"Geralt, we talked about this," Colour drained out of Yennefer's face and she looked from Geralt to the queen, who now sat with her lips pursed together. 

"Bagan, I —" 

"Yennefer, I've heard enough already." 

The Queen stood up, and so did the bastard Prince. She looked down at Yennefer with her malice ridden eyes. 

"I would like Tissaia de Vries to take over your responsibilities in our Kingdom." 

"Queen—" Yennefer began, but she cut her off again. 

"Henrik, get the horses ready. We're leaving. _This discussion is over_." 

Geralt and Yennefer didn't step up as they walked off, sitting together in an uncomfortable silence until the hall was empty. Yennefer then turned towards Geralt, her eyes narrowed in anger. 

"Why Geralt? Why would you do this to me?" 

Geralt frowned, his perfectly aligned eyebrows creasing together as he let out an annoyed groan and stood up, not bothering to even look at her. 

"I wouldn't give up _someone's honor_ , just to please you, Yen." 

"What about _my fucking honor_?" She yelled, hot tears rolling down her cheeks, as her lip trembled. 

"That—" Geralt mumbled, loud enough for her to hear it, "isn't honor, my love. That is your hunger for ultimate control. But remember one thing, it will help you, Yen. _Power_ gets into your head and once it does, there is no turning back. It _destroys_ you and those _around you_. And if that is where you are headed, my love, then you won't find me around to catch you when _you fall_." 

He then walked off, and Yennefer just kept staring at him, her eyes almost turned to stone.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tissaia de Vries pays you a visit and you are met with a startling revelation that can change your life, and the Witcher's forever. How are the two of you going to act upon it?

"Why won't this fucking spell let me in?" Jaskier whined; in frustration, having tried for perhaps the tenth time to step into your chambers, but the spell that Yennefer had placed, had not allowed him to enter. And even Geralt, for that matter. Geralt had already experienced it once, and his sensible self didn't try it again, but Jaskier was headstrong, not wanting to stop trying until he had found a way to break that spell.

"Jaskier, _let it go_. Will you let her rest? Yen's put the spell to protect [Y/N]." Geralt tried to intervene, but the bard threw out both his hands in the air; dramatically and glared at him.

"I mean her no harm, Geralt. I'm sure you are very much aware of that. I _love_ that woman." 

Although Geralt knew that Jaskier meant it entirely in a platonic way; given the fact that the two of you had developed a deep rooted friendship ever since the whole knock you up with the Witcher baby drama had begun; and a part inside of him flared with jealousy. 

Jaskier, on the other hand felt guilt pierce through his heart, ever since he had found out exactly what had happened through Geralt. A part of it was his fault— although the entire conversation in the celebration revolving around Henrik had been a sodden joke from his end, because he had seen Henrik's eyes on her; he had never thought he would go to this extent. He felt guilty, finding himself responsible to a limit for what you had gone through, and he had to talk to you, get it off his chest; but the _damn spell_.

Geralt grabbed Jaskier from the collar of his shirt and began dragging him away from your room, without muttering a word, when finally, you emerged from your chambers, your eyes sullen, sleep deprived and deep dark bags already formed under them. 

"[Y/N], Geralt—" Jaskier tried pulling his shirt off the Witcher's clutches, trying to bring to a halt the Witcher's dragging, "—Gods, you're such a big grizzly bear, would you look? _She is here._ " 

Geralt's head turned towards you and he let Jaskier go, his facial expressions changing almost instantly, from cold and unemotional to soft, and concerned; the second his eyes landed on you. You looked like a wreck, and Geralt mentally cursed himself, and his inability in that minute to reach out and provide you with comfort, or anything that could make you feel better. 

Instead, he decided to keep quiet, and let the bard talk to you instead, as he was already hovering around you, like a mother hen, _concerned_.

"[Y/N], _I'm really sorry_ , I didn't know, I had no idea he was such a pervert, I swear to the Gods, had I known, I wouldn't have made those jokes—" he began, and you gave him a weak smile, reaching out and letting your hand rest against the side of his arm, aware of Geralt's eyes fixed on the exchange between the two of you.

"You had no idea, Jaskier. Stop beating yourself up, I'm _alright_." 

Jaskier looked visibly relaxed upon hearing those words although he still wasn't entirely convinced, but decided not to push you any further. 

"Would you like some breakfast? I'll ask someone to bring something up here for you," Jaskier asked softly, to which you simply shook your head, and turned to Geralt. 

"I _want to go home_ , Geralt. If you don't mind, can you arrange for a horse for me?" 

Geralt stiffened when he was addressed directly, and he immediately nodded swiping his palm over his jaw and looked at you, "Give me some time, I'll arrange it." 

"Thank you, Geralt," you whispered, giving him a meagre smile, before the smile was overshadowed by a painful look in your eyes, and Geralt forced himself to look away as he left you alone with the bard. 

The bard did leave you alone shortly, with a promise to come back with a plate full of bread and ham for you; and you conceded because, as much as it pained you to think of it, you did want to be left alone, and this was the only way to make the hovering bard leave. 

You were thankful you didn't see the sorceress all day, for you weren't ready to deal with her. But, you were shocked to have a visitor on your door, and a person you had least expected to see— _Tissaia de Vries._ When she stepped into your bed chambers, Yennefer's spell being no barrier for her, you weren't surprised, because you knew who she was. 

"My name is Tissaia de Vries—" 

"I know who you are, you are a member of the Chapter of the Gift and the Art, you are a powerful sorceress who created Yennefer of Vengerberg," you stood up from the side of your bed, your palms reflexively fixing on your bump as you stepped closer to the woman, eyeing her carefully from the corner of your eye. You noticed her lips curl into a smile, and she nodded, bringing her palms together and rubbing them lightly. 

"Indeed, but the _girl grew her wings_ , and she flew away." 

You watched, noting how her smile faltered for a bit, and her eyes grew distant, as though she was suddenly plagued by certain memories, before she blinked, and turned towards you again; smiling at the curiousity that laced the features of your face. 

"You must have questions, love." 

"Yes, _what_ do you want?" You pointed out, bluntly, without leaving a room for any further blabbering. 

"Straight to the point, I see. Which is good. Saves me the effort, and the time," she slowly stepped closer, her head turning slightly to look for any unwanted ears out in the hallway prying into the conversation. Suddenly, she reached out and grabbed your wrist, although the grip was light; as she pulled you towards her, so her lips were lined to your ears. 

"Yennefer hasn't been entirely honest with you, love. There are a lot of things you don't know, and you must know," you blinked, listening to her as she continued, "Now this mansion has ears, but if you wish to know more come find me, child. I will be at the tavern in the village below, just until dawn tomorrow." 

* * *

Sneaking out of the mansion in the death of the night was easier than you had thought it would. Your face was almost covered, the cloak wrapped around your body, covering your face partially as you hurried down the secluded street of the village. You had walked for over a kilometer, and hadn't experienced anything dangerous so far, and you were thankful for it. 

The village lights were finally in sight, and you breathed a sigh of relief, when someone caught your arm and pulled you to the side of the road. He pulled off the cloak off your face; and you were met with the Witcher's golden orbs, his lips pressed together in a firm line, that only told you that he wasn't happy with the way you had sneaked out. 

"You followed me. All the way." 

His nose twitched, and he let go off your arm, your fingers feeling tingling due to the lack of his touch. 

"I wanted to see how reckless or stupid you could get," he mumbled, his voice raspy.

"And?" You parted your lips to let out your breath, still looking at him. 

"You like to _play with fire_." 

You rolled your eyes, and turned away as you began walking towards the village once more, and Geralt cursed under his breath, before he began following you. 

"You think you can just leave in the middle of the night? I am arranging for you to leave, but like a _normal human being_ , in the light of the day." 

You let out a snort; your pace slowing down a bit to let the Witcher catch up with you, but you didn't stop walking. You turned your head slightly to look at him, "I'm not leaving, Geralt. I knew you were following me. _I saw you_." 

Geralt's lips twitched, almost faintly but you caught it before he looked at you with all seriousness again.

"I'm sure you didn't want to just go out for a _walk_." 

"Well—" Your hand flew to the back of your head, as you scratched it lightly, and pulled your gaze away. The village was already upon you. "— You wouldn't exactly have let me if I had asked for your _permission_." 

"Fair." 

Your eyes spotted the tavern, and a rush of adrenaline surged through you. You wouldn't lie; you were curious as to what was it that Tissaia knew, and you didn't. 

"It's funny, Witcher, you barely used to say words to me. _Look at you now_." 

He grunted in response to you, his own eyes now having captured the destination where you were headed; the tavern. 

"The _tavern_?" 

You ignored him as you stepped into the tavern, and your nose immediately scrunched upwards, as the horrid smell of ale; too much of it, filled in your nostrils. Ignoring the pang to throw up, your eyes began looking for Tissaia until you spotted her, sitting at the back, at a farther end, smiling and watching you. It was as though she knew you were coming. 

_"Tissaia de Vries?"_ Geralt mumbled, and you nodded. Before he could even stop you, you were striding towards her. He decided to simply follow you, now that he was here with you. It was better to keep his eye on you, in case she decided to pull up an antic.

"I see you're not _alone_. _Witcher_." The sorceress nodded her head in his direction and motioned for the two of you to sit down on a bench in front of her. You looked at Geralt, and he craned his neck slightly, his eyes darting around, scanning the tavern for anything unusual, while you sat down. In a minute, he sat down too, the bench now feeling cramped with his massive frame just next to yours. 

"Tell me what you told me earlier. About what Yennefer hid from me." 

Geralt tensed beside you and you chose deliberately not to look at him, at the mention of her name, keeping your eyes fixed on the sorceress in front of you. 

"I think it's time, Geralt. Yennefer's been keeping things from you, I thought you would have understood, but unfortunately—" 

"Tissaia, I don't understand what game you are playing," Geralt leaned forward, his palm placed on the table, his eyes narrowed at her, his shoulders tense. 

"Geralt," you whispered, "let her speak." 

The White Wolf grumbled under his breath, but didn't say anything else. His shoulders remained tense, heat radiating from his body; that you could feel but you were too curious to listen to the sorceress to feel any different. 

"There are certain spells that came take a human's life," Tissaia began, her solemn eyes now fixed on you, "they are strong enough to destroy a human body. Because a human body isn't string enough to take it." She leaned forward, letting her elbows rest against the table as she picked a piece of red meat and tossed it into her mouth, chewing on it and swallowing it. "The point is, the spell that Yennefer used, to grow his child within you wasn't an ordinary spell. No human can endure the power of that spell, and come out unscathed. _You did_."

You turned towards Geralt and shot him a look, before turning back to the sorceress again, "I don't get it. I survived the spell. Which is why this happened," your hand flew to your belly, and you looked down at your stomach, feeling Geralt's gaze on it too, before the two of you turned towards her again and she nodded. 

"You think it was a mere coincidence that Yennefer picked you, out of all the women in the world, to carry that baby?" She pointed to your stomach. 

"I _needed_ the coin."

"The coin was a facade, child." 

She turned towards the Witcher and he blinked, "You didn't know it too, Wolf. She never mentioned [Y/N] before, did she? I doubt it. Yennefer never betrays her own plans." 

"Get to the _fucking point_ , Tissaia," Geralt growled, and you shifted uncomfortably towards him, agreeing with him on this. Tissaia was making you uncomfortable. 

"Twenty five years back, Queen Calanthe gave birth to a girl, this was before Pavetta was born. Someone stole the baby the night she was born, but they never _found her_." 

"I think we should leave." 

You turned towards Geralt, confused and helpless, before turning back to the sorceress again. 

"That baby had the Elder Blood running through her veins. She had immense power, power that could disrupt everything around her by just one scream from her throat." 

"What happened to the baby?" You asked; your heart thumping wildly against your chest. 

"That baby grew up until Yennefer of Vengerberg found her in Redania, and a Witcher put his child in her."

Tissaia found herself a smile, you couldn't help but gasp, and Geralt just deadpanned, " _Well, fuck_." 

* * *

"You're telling me that I'm _the Princess of Cintra?_ Gods you must be mistaken, I don't know anything about magic. I'm just a commoner that got _trapped by these two_ for coin." You turned towards him, giving him a glare, and he grunted in response. 

"You were _never trapped_ , you chose to do it."

"You think Yennefer wants to be a mother?" Tissaia spoke again, but this time, her eyes were on Geralt. You glanced from him to her, and then back, until you had your eyes fixed on his uncomfortable form. His fingers had clenched into a fist. "Combine the Elder blood, with a Witcher's blood. No sorceress is powerful enough against _that baby_." She pointed towards your stomach, and instinctively, your palm flew towards it, trying to shield your bump from the woman's eyes. You felt Geralt stiffen too; as he shifted towards you, his own protective side spilling out at those words as he glanced at you. 

"If you knew your lover well, _White Wolf_ , you would have known. Her lust for power would never end. She wants that baby because that _baby is the key_ for her to slide to the top." 

Geralt swallowed thickly. His palm came to rest against the table in front of him, his grip tightening over it, his knuckles almost turning white. He knew Yennefer was power hungry; but never had he realized that her hunger was now out of control. He felt stupid now, and more than stupid, he felt relentless rage, because she had played him. All this while, he thought that she wanted his child— but all she wanted was a Witcher's child, mixed with the Elder Blood, so she could have, for herself, the most powerful magic yielder in the form of a child.

"It wasn't a coincidence then, that Yennefer wanted me to carry this baby," you whispered to Geralt. You then turned to Tissaia, who tossed a piece of red meat into her mouth once again, her eyes fixed on you, "What _power_ does Yennefer have over me?" 

She smirked slightly, as though she had thought about this quite a lot.

"Well, your powers need to be harnessed, which is why she has an edge over you. Once you do learn to harness your powers, Yennefer wouldn't be a problem." She suddenly closed her eyes, and her lips started moving as she began chanting something and your eyebrow shot up. Within seconds, she was already done. "She wouldn't be able to track you for a while. You can go wherever you want. The effect of the spell should last five to six days." 

Somewhere outside, a rooster suddenly crowed, signalling that it was morning. Tissaia de Vries suddenly lowered her cloak so that it covered her face. 

"It's dawn, I will take your leave, [Y/N]. Find me whenever you need me," You watched, numbly, only nodding your head at her as dhe stood up, and placed her hand on your shoulder, squeezing it lightly until she was already out of sight. You kept standing there, bellowed in silence, both you breathing laboured, lost in your own thoughts. 

Geralt finally pulled you out of your thoughts, _"A Princess? I need a fucking drink."_

Geralt stood up and walked away, to get himself a drink. You just kept staring at him, too shocked to even react, or process anything. This was all too much to process in a single night. You were a Princess, and not just any Princess, you had Elder Blood running through your veins.

_Your baby —_

You pressed your palm to your mouth, rather abruptly and stood up, dashing towards the exit of the tavern. 

Geralt's head shot towards you like missile as he watched you leave. 

You ran outside, Geralt's heavy footsteps racing behind you as you bent over in a corner and began throwing up. 

Geralt's warm palm fixed on your lower back; and you felt him pull your hair away from your face, holding them up for you while his other hand ran soothing circles over your lower back. 

You weakly stood up straighter, but your legs suddenly felt weak which is why you held on to the wall for support, as you wiped the corners of your mouth with your sleeve. 

"Too much information for one night," You muttered in a low voice, your eyes not meeting Geralt's. 

"Not the only one," Geralt responded, his lips twitching with humour, but that immediately washed away when you tried taking a step towards him but found yourself unable to hold yourself on your feet. He reached out, grabbing you by your shoulders to steady you to your feet. 

Finally, letting out a soft exhale, the Witcher bent, and lifted you up in his arms, almost effortlessly, his hand holding you from the base of your thighs. Your hand wrapped around the Witcher's neck almost reflexively, as he held you against his chest and began walking back. 

The first few minutes were quiet, until you finally spoke— your fingers _unknowingly_ playing with the Witcher's hair. 

"This _complicates_ things." 

He hummed in response but chose to stay quiet; so you continued. 

"Where does this leave you, Geralt? Because I have .. already _made up my mind_." 

A silence took over the two of you, causing you to flick your gaze to the side of his face. His lips were pursed together, as though he was thinking. You didn't stop toying with the strands of his hair, and neither did he stop you. Finally, he exhaled, and craned his neck slightly lower so he could look at you. 

_"And what did you decide?"_

You bit the insides of your cheeks nervously. Geralt had been nice to you, until today, if you were to ignore the first few weeks you had known him. You had seen the change in the man; having grown from cold to lukewarm towards you, but that didn't mean you didn't know what Yennefer meant to him. _Now, would Geralt really let you go? Especially.. if you were carrying his baby?_

"I .. I want to go home.. I want to see my mother, I want to.. see my kingdom, and I want to learn to harness .. my magic.." You whispered.

Geralt nodded, but he didn't reply. 

He slowly let you down, and you looked up to realize that you had been so distracted talking to Geralt, you hadn't realized that you were standing on the bottom most step that led to the sorceress' mansion.

"I won't stop you." 

You abruptly stopped walking when you heard those words, your legs almost freezing when you felt that he wasn't behind you anymore. You turned back around to find him standing on the bottom most step while you had already made your way to the door. 

"Thank you, Geralt. For _everything_." 


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt confronts Yennefer, and a massive argument leads to something disastrous, that even Yennefer cannot control.

"YENNEFER? YEN!"

Geralt's voice rang through the quiet hallways until the sorceress finally stepped out of her chambers, frowning.

"Geralt—"

She gasped, freezing when she saw him looking at her with a look that was far from the love that she had always seen in his eyes for her. Her eyes flicked from him to you, and you pressed yourself against the wall, although you kept looking at her with rage filled eyes.

"You used me. And I fucking let you." His voice was low, dark— mediating between a growl and a warning.

"My love, what—"

"ENOUGH, Yennefer. Tissaia de Vries told her everything. Funny I happened to be around when she did," he growled.

"And you really believed the lies that woman fed you with? Really Geralt? You would take her words over me?" She hissed back, venom lurking through her dark eyes as she took a step closer. You could see that Yennefer was shaking, and your nearest guess was, that it was with rage.

"Yennefer—" Geralt began, but she cut him off.

"What did she say? She must have cooked up lies on how this whore is a Cintran Princess."

"You couldn't have made it up, Yennefer."

"I thought you loved me. I thought I was important to you. Now you are being poisoned by that witch, knowing what she did to me—"

"Yennefer, enough," Geralt grabbed her shoulders, his fingers digging into her flesh as he jerked her, towards her, so her face was inches closer to his.

"I told you, I wouldn't be here to catch you fall."

"Geralt, they are poisoning your minds. Look at her—" She turned towards you with hate filled eyes, hot tears leaking from them, "She can never be a Princess."

The sides of his lips tugged upwards as he shot you a quick glance, and then turned back to her.

"I would rather believe the lies they feed me then, than trust you again."

With those words, Geralt pushed Yennefer away and turned his back towards her, his face now towards you. It was only as he had finally started walking towards you, that Yennefer threw back her head and began laughing. It started as a chuckle first, a maniacal, evil chuckle, until she was clutching her stomach and laughing.

"What are you going to do about it, Geralt of Rivia? _You're weak_. You let yourself be manipulated by me, you _fell in love_ with me and _gave up_ almost everything. Now, what will you do exactly? _Leave_?"

She hiccuped, her voice dark and malicious, as she mumbled them between her uncontrollable laughter. Geralt's fists clenched, his body going rigid as he slowly turned, looking her in the eye.

"It's over, Yennefer."

"No, it's not. And you—" She turned towards you, taking a step towards you, but Geralt pushed himself between you and her, placing his thick hand on her shoulder to keep her away from you, "You think you've won? You don't know what Yennefer of Vengerberg is capable of." She snapped her neck towards Geralt, craning her neck slightly, so her lips were hovering over his, but he didn't move, as she whispered, "You two will run away. Raise that baby? And Yennefer won't find you?"

"That's the plan, Yen— if you don't already know." Geralt grunted, but stayed where he was.

"Well, then.. go?" She smiled and stepped away, throwing her hands in the air.

You didn't know when Jaskier had sneaked up next to you, but you were now thankful he was there. He took your hand in his, his fingers coiling around yours, entwining your hands.

"She can't mean it, can she?" You whispered, bit all you received in return was silence.

"Leave before I change my mind." She screamed, causing you to flinch, and instinctively jump backwards.

Geralt, in that split second, turned towards you, and your eyes met his. He nodded. You swallowed, pleading with him with your eyes and he softened. You watched as he parted his lips, mouthing the word 'go', and you turned towards Jaskier.

"Jaskier. We need to leave. Now."

"But Geralt—" Jaskier asked, as you pulled his hand and began dragging him towards the main door.

"Just.. Geralt will figure something out. I know it."

The two of you dashed towards the door, until suddenly a sudden thrust hit you hard against your back, and you flew off, your back hitting the wall as you crashed against the floor on one end, while Jaskier flew off to the right. Yennefer smirked, her hands held against her chest, a ball of air revolving around her fingers.

Geralt growled like a wounded animal, his hand finally gripping his sword, as he pounced on her, like a hungry predator. Instead of using the sword, he twisted the sword, hitting Yennefer against her temple with the hilt of the sword, disbalancing her and knocking her off as she fell to her side.She snarled, grabbing Geralt's foot, pulling him slightly until cracks appeared underneath his feet and roots started creeping against his legs, coiling around them, freezing him to where he was.

He muttered a curse under his breath, and using his fingers, he drew a sign in the air, and a sudden blast of telekinetic energy hit the creepers, freeing him of his captivity.

"I can't believe this is how it ends, Yen, but it will," Geralt muttered, in a voice so low, only Yennefer could hear it.

You groaned, blinking, confused and dazed as you fluttered your eyes open. The back of your head was stinging as you sat back up, your hand immediately flowing to your head. Suddenly, you were reminded of Yennefer, and you immediately gasped, your head sharply turning towards where Yennefer and Geralt were, fighting each other. Biting your lip, you crawled to where Jaskier was laying unconscious, keeping your head low so she wouldn't spot you.

"Jaskier," you hissed, slapping him lightly across his face, your head ducked so the sorceress wouldn't be able to see that you are awake, "Jas' wake up. Wake up Jaskier."

"Where... the..fuck am I? Am I dead? Am I in.. heaven?" Jaskier mumbled barely incoherent words as he slowly opened his eyes.

"Na, not so lucky. Now wake up, we need to find a way to get out of here. Geralt can stall her, but he cannot fight her—" Your words were interrupted when Geralt crashed on his back just inches away from where you and Jaskier were, and the two of you looked from each other to him. Geralt groaned slightly, but conscious as he lifted his head up, and his eyes met yours. His eyes softened when he saw that you were okay, the firmness of his eyes melting away.

"Go," he grunted, as he pushed himself up again, his fingers moving as he conjured up another sign, but his eyes were on you.

You pursed your lips together and looked at Jaskier and then at Geralt, shaking your head, "Not without you, Geralt." Jaskier smiled, Geralt kept looking at you, his expressions not betraying exactly how he was feeling right now when Yennefer's bellowing laughter started ringing into your ears. You turned around to see her standing fifteen steps away from you, smiling.

"Had a nice sleep, pet?" She hissed.

Then everything happened in slow motion. You watched her lips and her hands move, and a blast of white light dashed towards you. You could hear it in the back of your head; Geralt screaming, running towards you, trying to conjure up a sign to save you but the momentum and the strength of the sorceress' attack was no match for him.

You didn't know why, but you began gripping the fabric of your tunic, your fingers curling around it. You opened your mouth— a scream, like death, blasted out from the crevice of your throat, shrill and loud. Cracks appeared on the walls around you, the vessels beginning to shake. Just when the blast Yennefer had sent your way was close enough to hit you, the two pillars that stood on the either side of the room fell, landing in front of you, acting as a barrier to stop the force from touching you.

The room was engulfed in dust the second the pillars fell, and you let go off the fabrics you were holding, immediately jumping backwards, running towards Geralt. He wrapped an arm around your waist the minute you reached him, and then turned to look at the rubble that had formed, looking from it to you, "Fuck." He muttered, looking at you.

He, however recovered from it faster than Jaskier could who was still gaping at you, wide mouthed. Geralt took this minute when Yennefer was distracted, seething in rage when she had seen just what you had done. Grabbing your arm, he pulled you backwards, dragging you towards the door.

"You two leave."

"And you?" You snapped, pulling your arm away and got a growl from him in retaliation.

"[Y/N]—" the bard intervened, grabbing your other arm, which was hilarious. It was like you were a commodity suddenly. One dropped you and other lifted you up, "Now is not the best time to argue. Geralt can take care of himself but we should get out while we can. You're a pregnant ball of magic that doesn't know how to control it."

"A ball of magic?" You glared at him.

"Fuck, you two. Will you leave?" Geralt growled, intercepting the two of you. When you turned towards him, you realized that while you were bantering with the bard, Geralt had formed a defensive sign around the three of you. It was holding against Yennefer's spell of lightning, but for how long?

"I'm not leaving you. We are leaving, together." You announced.

You just realized something. Yennefer had Geralt's heart, whether you liked or not. He wouldn't be able to kill her, even if he knew he could. He was just buying you time to escape. But you also realized, Geralt had your heart, and you couldn't leave him behind.

"Fucks sake, I can't hold it any longer, why won't you leave—" Geralt barked, and you looked at him, an idea suddenly striking you.

"What if we can all leave? I think I have an idea."

"It better be good." Geralt grunted, still struggling to hold his sheild.

"Remember what Yen said about the Great Mount? No Mage is powerful enough to create a portal to that place. But, I am not a mage." You smiled.

"But [Y/N], you are not strong enough," Jaskier protested.

"We have to try, Jaskier. That's our only way for all three of us to leave. For now. Geralt, hold on for a few seconds longer, I can do this."

A look passed between you and Geralt. He just glared at you, not agreeing per se with the action plan that you had come out with, but he didn't have a plan of his own, except to stall the sorceress. He pursed his lips and nodded, finally parting his lips as words shot out of his mouth, "Fine.. just... don't get hurt."

You nodded and fluttered your eyes close, concentrating on that one black spot in front of your eyelids. A few seconds passed, and nothing happened, your fingers twitching with impatience. You could hear Jaskier mumble, "Geralt, I don't think it's working. We're gonna die by your lover's hands if you don't do something."

You snarled angrily, clenching your eyes shut, focusing all your energy on that spot when the sounds started growing distance and your mind started blocking out the sounds. Your breathing piked up, and you were practically panting; gasping for air when you finally saw it in front of your eyes — the Great Mount. It stood tall, just like you remembered it from earlier.

"Jaskier, bring her back!" Geralt snarled, screaming and struggling when suddenly his spell broke, and the three of you were flung into the air by the force of Yennefer's spell. You kept laying there twitching and convulsing, foam shooting out of your mouth but all you could see in your mind now was the Great Mount.

Suddenly, a portal appeared in front of you, and Yennefer screamed at the sight of it, for the portal wasn't a normal portal she had ever used. This was only something she had heard in stories, and had never seen anything like it. It was a portal that could only be used by the elven mages; better known as the sages. Yennefer realized, blood draining out of her face, if you could conjure up a portal like this, you could bring down her magic with the blink of an eye, if you got full control over your power.

"Hurry!" You screamed, and the three of you pushed yourself up; before you began running towards the portal, without taking a look back. You ignored Yennefer's scream, and the powerful blast of fire that she released because the instant you stepped into the portal, the portal closed, blocking Yennefer out and the three of you landed on your backs on a muddy ground.

* * *

You could hear Jaskier groaning someplace next to you, and you could hear Geralt grunt, but louder than that was the piercing ringing in your ears. You kept laying on the cold ground, staring at the sky, your body feeling like it had been run over by a massive elephant, until you felt Geralt; saw Geralt leaning over you, trying to revive you, his fingers patting over your cheeks.

"Wake up. Wake up, fuck."

You blinked, taking a deep breath as you abruptly sat up, all of it coming to you slowly, your brain still clogged due to the immense pain that you were feeling everywhere but your stomach.

"Geralt— the baby."

Geralt's eyes constricted, as his eyes fell to your belly, and without hesitating, his palm flew to your bump, as he placed it on your stomach and began feeling around.

You kept watching, breathing heavy, biting your lip, trying to control the tears that were forming in your eyes.

 _What if you had lost the baby? What if_ —

"Our baby is okay."

You swallowed the lump forming in your throat, whispering, your voice low, " _Our_?"

The last you remembered, Geralt had only smiled when he was with her. But you couldn't keep your tears in line, when you saw his lips curve into the tiniest of smiles upon hearing your innocent question. He didn't reply; but instead, he removed his hand from your stomach, placing it on your cheek, for just a split second, his thumb stroking slightly over your skin.

"Hm."

Geralt's touch lingered against your cheek for a second longer, and it felt like your skin was on fire. When he removed it though, it was like ice, cold and stinging. You watched him, with a giddy smile on your face as he stood up, and through out his palm towards you. You slowly reached out, placing your palm in his as he pulled you up.

"Now what, Witcher?" You whispered, staring into his golden orbs, and he kept staring back at you. But you didn't know why his eyes felt different altogether. It was like he was seeing you, for you and not for a woman who was just carrying his baby.

"We go to Cintra."

You smiled, and looked down at your feet before lifting your gaze and looking back at him, before an amused look crossed your eyes.

"What?" He mumbled, his broody voice back again.

" _Starving_ , Geralt." You explained, rubbing your palm over your belly. His eyes followed your movements, his lips twitching as he nodded.

"I'll see if I can find something to hunt around here, before we leave."

Geralt slowly turned away, and you watched as he began walking towards the shrubbery, when Jaskier cleared his throat, rather loudly, and you realized you weren't alone, "What?" You said, feigning innocence.

"Would the two of you just declare your love for each other already? It's getting obnoxious watching the two of you strip each other with just your eyes." He winked, his eyes twinkling as he teasing you, and you couldn't help but flush at his words.

"There's nothing between us, Jaskier." You shrugged, rubbing your hands together, wincing slightly as you tried to move your shoulder and Jaskier frowned, eyeing you carefully, but you have him a ghost of a smile, signalling him that you were okay.

"I'm not blind. And neither am I a eunuch."

"What's that supposed to mean?" You gasped hitting him in the arm.

"Well I mean, only a blind can or see the effect that you are having on my broody friend, [Y/N]."

"Stop being dramatic, Jas'—" You turned away intentionally, not wanting to indulge in this specific topic of conversation with him. Instead, you slowly began walking around, and trying to pass your time until Geralt was back so you didn't have to answer Jaskier anymore or think about what he had said. 

_Geralt didn't really feel anything for you. Jaskier wasn't right this time. Right?_

* * *

An owl hooted somewhere around; embers sizzles from the fire that heated up the three of you as you sat around it, letting the warmth seep through your bones. It was like a healing. You watched, as you dug your teeth into the roasted rabbit leg, taking a chunky bite of the meat, hunger making your tummy rumble uncontrollably; you kept staring at Geralt, who was eating too. 

Suddenly, Geralt looked at you— the corner of his lips twitching into a smirk— he had seen you stare. You turned away, flustered, heat pooled up inside you.

You cleared your throat awkwardly and began staring at the sky, the trees and anything that wasn't the white haired Witcher smirking teasingly at you. 

"We will leave for Cintra at dawn. Although—" Geralt began speaking, and you turned to look at him, "Yen cannot open a portal to the Great Mount, she can open a portal to the city nearest, which is a day's distance from here."

"You think she is already on her way?" You cocked your eyebrow, ignoring Jaskier chewing on the roasted rabbit shamelessly next to you. 

"Nothing's gonna stop her. She will follow us to the end of the world just to get what she wants." 

"I would be surprised if she didn't," you exhaled as you slowly stood up, your shoulder still sore after having taken that bad fall on your back twice. 

"[Y/N], rest," Geralt stated, and it sounded more like a command. When you looked at him, he was arching forward, both his elbows resting on his knees, his legs spread out, his palms together. The fire illuminated his face, highlighting his handsome features.

You lowered yourself by a tree, wincing slightly when your shoulder brushed against the tree bark; a hiss escaping your pursed lips, through your teeth. Geralt's Witcher sense of hearing picked up on your hiss, and he cocked his neck towards you, carefully noticing the way you were slightly tense around the upper body. You watched as he stood up and with big steps, reached where you were, instantly kneeling down next to you.

"Show me." 

"What?" You mumbled. 

Geralt grunted in annoyance, "You're hurt." 

"Geralt, I'm fine, really, it's nothing," you absentmindedly replied him, exhaustion and pain making you feel weak.

A growl arose from somewhere inside the White Wolf's chest— it was animalistic; more like a wounded animal's warning snarl— desperate. He suddenly reached out, placing his hand on your shoulder and you winced in pain. It wasn't the pain, however that bothered you.

But, rather the inappropriate thoughts building up in your mind. You were at the same place yet again, the place where you had conceived your child with Geralt, and so was he. A lot had changed since then, but the feelings had only flared.

Your eyes clenched shut as you felt Geralt's warm fingers brush against your neck as his fingers hooked to the neck of your dirty dress. 

Geralt pressed his lips shut when he looked at you like this— cowered under his touch— not in fear, for you could have stopped him anytime. Or could you? Geralt doubted suddenly if he could himself bring him to stop, when his fingers were brushing against your alarmingly cold skin, skin that felt like butter underneath his touch. He suddenly felt intoxicated, his insides flaring up and a sudden, raw hunger built up in him. He wanted to feel more of your skin underneath his fingers, brush his index over the curves of your body, caress you and make you feel better. 

He flicked his eyes shut, mentally cursing himself for thinking that way about you. 

But it was hard to resist; more so when he could practically see you melting in his touch.

Slowly, he lowered your dress, down your shoulder, grunting under his breath as he noticed the sudden rise of your chest as you took a sharp breath. 

You were making this difficult for him. 

His eyes fell on your shoulder— a massive bruise had already formed, turning bluish purple and he frowned, leaning closer so he could look at it better. 

"Why didn't you tell me?" He looked from the bruise to your face, right into your eyes and you took in his words, slowly craning your neck over your shoulder to see what he was looking at. You knew you were hurt, but you hadn't realized it was that bad. 

"I .. didn't realize." You whispered, watching his frown widen as his fingers pulled away, leaving a void inside you that threatened to flare. 

"Wait." That was all Geralt said before he stood up, and walked away, his eyes lowered to the sides where the shrubs stood, looking for something. 

About ten minutes later, you saw him returning, but he had a few herbs in his hands. You kept looking at him questioningly as he knelt down next to you and began crushing the herbs between his thick, beefy palms, as he didn't have a mortar and pestle on him. 

"May I?" 

You nodded, biting your lip as you let the Witcher apply the thick paste over your bruise. It stung, but you clenched your eyes shut, taking a deep breath, cursing lightly under your breath, and Geralt swore he felt something inside him— a guilt, or perhaps, an inexplicable feeling of seeing you in pain.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You are back home, back in your kingdom and back amongst the people that love you.

Calanthe had a tight lipped smile etched to her face; this celebration was making her feeling claustrophobic and the crackling cords of the lute gave her a headache. On one side sat her husband, the King of Cintra, Eist Tuirseach of Skellige and on her other side sat her granddaughter, the blonde haired blue eyed beauty, Cirilla.

"Spare me the festivities, I can't wait to retire and sleep off all night," she muttered under her breath, her fake smile still plastered on her face, as she acknowledged the lords that bowed their heads in her direction in greeting.

"Calanthe, love, it's her anniversary, you can atleast pretend to have a good time," Eist smiled, his fingers curling around the goblet in front of him as he lifted it and brought it up to his lips, taking a sip.

"Would someone even bother asking me if I like it?" Cirilla scowled, rolling her eyes. If there was one thing she couldn't do, was pretend, unlike her grandmother and her husband, who could give a 1000 watt smile on even the gravest of days.

Eist scoffed, but was met by a glare from his wife, as she turned towards Ciri with a stern look on her face, but not one with hatred, "Ciri, when will you learn?"

"Oh stop it grandmother, not again."

Calanthe let out a deep shaky breath pummeling from deep within her lungs as she sat back, trying to get more comfortable when she spotted one of her soldiers speaking to Mousesack by the gate. She squinted her eyes, bringing her index to her chin as she leaned forward, letting her chin be supported by it. Mousesack's expressions screamed at her that the discussion was not a common one; something was up.

Mousesack craned his neck to his side, discreetly and looked at her, her eyebrow instinctively shooting upwards in inquisitiveness and he blinked, slowly striding towards him until he was leaning next to her and whispering something into the Queen's ears; Eist and Ciri watching them with their eyebrows raised.

* * *

"We need to see Calanthe," Geralt said to one of the guards at the massive gates for the fifth time, and the guard asked him for the fifth time back what their purpose for visit was.

Geralt pursed his lips shut, and turned towards you. He looked at you in the eye, and you sighed. This wasn't working. There was no way on earth they were going to let you go in unless you told them what the truth was, but you couldn't risk it. What if they didn't believe you?

"Guards, back away. Let them in. The Queen wants to see the three of them." Mousesack's voice rang from behind them and they turned around immediately, moving out of the way until you came face to face with the a man with greying long hair, although way shorter than Geralt's. He had a pleasant, kind look to him but still, he had caution in his eyes.

"Follow me." He said, his voice not wavering a bit.

You turned towards Geralt who was stiff, and alert too, his eyes scanning the man in suspicion. When you didn't follow him, the man turned and his expressions softened, "I am Mousesack, Queen Calanthe's confidant. I mean you no harm."

"Geralt, I think we should?" You asked, and he blinked in approval, his lips clenched together.

The three of you entered the palace, slowly following the man in front of you. The hallways were elegant and beautifully lit, and a faint sound of a lute filled the hallway. You slowly turned towards Jaskier, and saw him in a daze just like you had expected him to be.

"Jaskier, I'm sorry about your lute," you sighed, and he looked away for a bit, in sadness, his hands held together in front of him.

"You know? Lovers may come and go, but she was forever loyal to me."

"I'm sure you'll find a new one," Geralt grumbled next to you and you gasped, elbowing him in his side.

"Geralt, can you please not?"

He grumbled something again, but you chose not to entertain the Witcher. Instead you linked your hand with Jaskier's, sliding it against his arm until you were holding it and walking, leaning against him.

"I don't think Yennefer will take my revenge on your lute."

Geralt snorted next to you, and Jaskier threw his arms in the air, dramatically and you giggled teasingly.

"I thought you were on my side, [Y/N]. But I see that your priorities have changed."

Jaskier wiggled his brows dramatically and flush crept on your cheeks, your insides flaring up once again. Your heart almost felt like it stopped, and you couldn't bring yourself to take a look at the brooding man walking next to you. Finally, you mustered enough courage to look at him, but when you did, you realized that he was actually grinning like a Cheshire cat.

"You too?" You growled at him and he stopped smiling.

"Jaskier isn't always wrong."

"Hey! I am NEVER wrong—"

"Geralt, I supported you. You're siding with him now?"

The three of you were talking at the exact same time and Mousesack abruptly stopped, turning towards you and all three of you stopped bickering, looking at him with embarassment on your faces.

"We all thought you were dead, _Princess_."

You looked at him in disbelief; _he knew?_

"My apologies, I didn't meant to startle you. I'm, uh, a druid. I know things, and I can feel powers. The minute you stepped into Cintra, I felt your presence," you blinked, "and Tissaia de Vries might have told me you would come?" He smiled at you.

"Does she know?" You asked, your voice coming out weaker— as though something was lodged to your throat. 

He smiled, and nodded, " _She does_. She has been waiting to see you ever since the sorceress paid her a visit and told her you were alive." 

As Mousesack stopped talking, you looked up to see that you were in a richly furnished chamber but it wasn't the chamber that surprised you, it was the woman that sat nervously by the edge of the king sized bed, her fingers nervously toying with each other. Another young girl stood in a corner, excitement glimmering in her eyes.

"Your Majesty, she is here," Mousesack announced.

Calanthe looked up, her eyes brimming with tears. She glanced at you from top to bottom as though she was trying to fit your memory into her mind. She blinked, ignoring how thick chunks of tears now flew from her eyes and she stood up, almost trembling like a leaf.

"Come here, sweet child?"

You didn't know what came over you. Maybe, it was the fact that you didn't ever experience the love of a mother. Or maybe, you were going to be a mother yourself, so you knew what a mother's role was. You ran towards her, and she almost choked on a smile as you ran into her arms, burying your face into her chest as her fingers began stroking your hair.

"I can't believe it's you, sweet child. I never thought..I'd get to hold you in my arms. Look at you. You're.. grown up," you pulled back, and her palm came to rest against your cheek, her thumb stroking it gently.

"What's your name? I never.. got to name you."

"It's [Y/N], mother."

Ciri awkwardly walked up to her grandmother's side, her fingers clenching the Queen's garment, her blue eyes looked at you.

You looked down at her and raised an eyebrow.

"Meet Ciri, [Y/N]. Your niece."

* * *

You sat back, trying to get more comfortable in the utterly soft chair on the Queen's table; your back hurt like a bitch.

Calanthe nodded at one of the lords who took her hand and plastered a kiss against her knuckles and she gave a fake smile before turning to you and muttered, "The child giving you trouble?" Her words ended with a glare towards the Witcher and you bit your lip.

"I'm fine, mother."

"I can't believe you brought that wretched bastard with you, [Y/N]. Men like those, treating our bodies like we are nothing but a fucking commodity."

She took a sip of ale, her eyes not leaving Geralt who stood in the farther end of the hall, drinking ale from a pitcher himself. Jaskier had taken the lute from the bard, borrowed it actually, and was now entertaining the guests.

"Mother, he isn't.. I mean.. I know this all doesn't paint the right picture, but Geralt has been kind to me."

"Kind? You would call a man who used your body just for the sake of having a child? And look where it got you—" She hissed.

"Mother—"

"Calanthe, my love," Eist intervened, and you swallowed the lump forming inside your throat, your eyes fixed on the Witcher.

"Fine but he needs to leave. Before I ask him to leave myself," Calanthe growled.

Your heart sank at this, and to make this worse, Geralt was right there in front of your eyes and your heart aches to go talk to him but you didn't want to anger your mother, especially when you had met her for the first time in your life.

* * *

You sat up in bed, drenched in your own sweat, your chest heaving up and down. You had seen the sorceress in your nightmare and she was smirking, holding your baby in her hands. What made it worse was the fact that Geralt was next to her, holding her by her waist, as he bent down to kiss the forehead of his child. 

You swiped your palm over your face as reality sank back in and you realized that it was just a nightmare— you were in Cintra. _You were safe._

You laid back down in bed, closing your eyes so you could fall back into a deep slumber yet again, only hoping that the sorceress wouldn't torture you in your dreams again.

For a few minutes, you kept tossing and turning in bed, your body churning in discomfort. You couldn't sleep.

You sat up once again, rubbing your belly, trying to comfort your unborn baby, until something struck your mind.

You decided to explore the palace, for this was your first time you had actually been to one, and ironically, this was your home. You slid into your robe, tying it securely around your blossoming waist as you stepped out of the chambers, holding just a candlestick to help you look around.

You wandered aimlessly through the palace confines for a few minutes, exploring.

It was only after fifteen minutes or so, you decided to check out the other tower. Only, you had no idea that the other tower was the guest tower where Geralt and Jaskier were staying the night.

Geralt frowned, squinting his eyes as he threw back his head, downing the contents of the pitcher in one go. He looked at Jaskier, who had a blonde woman curled against his lap, his fingers fondling her thigh. Shaking his head, the Witcher slammed the pitcher onto the table and pushed himself up.

He pushed his way through the overly drunk guests at the celebration, his only goal now to reach his own chambers for the night so he could get a peaceful sleep before the dawn came the next morning.

The hallways were quiet this side of the palace, and Geralt could practically hear the sound of his feet as he climbed the staircase towards his room.

Strangely, his eyes fell on you— you were sitting on the topmost staircase, staring at your hands, a look of exhaustion draped over your face.

"[Y/N].." Your name shot out of his lips like a prayer and he saw you look up, a look of relief reflecting in your eyes.

" _Are you okay?_ "

The concern in his voice was like a sharp knife cutting through your heart, hurting just the right amount. You blinked, giving him the weakest of your smiles as you nodded and stood up. You were now on the top most step, and Geralt was on a step below you, so the man was just the same height as yours. 

His eyes were golden, a fire lurking within his irises, his eyes although hollow and devoid of any emotion, for others, you could see a flicker in them, that made a warmth tingle inside of you somewhere. 

"Couldn't sleep.. " 

"Is it the baby?" He frowned, still looking at you, an inexplicable look on his face. It was only then that you felt something. When you lowered your eyes, you saw his palm pressed to your stomach. 

It felt oddly intimate. It was just the two of you, in that hallway, and Geralt had his warm palm protectively draped over your belly— and as though the baby already knew who his father was, you felt a flip in your stomach. 

"No, the baby is okay." 

Relief filled him, and he gave you a flicker of a Ile before he placed his other hand on your arm and pushed you slightly towards the wall to step up the topmost stair, so he could tower over you. 

"She haunts my dreams," you blurted out, although you didn't know why you said it and Geralt looked thoughtful for a bit. 

"Mine too." 

"In what way?"

Despite the crispness of the weather in Cintra, you could feel your blood running cold and your toes begin to tingle, not in a good way. You could feel the jealousy rise inside of you, and your nostrils flared. 

"I see her as a monster." 

"Not your lover?" You mumbled. 

Geralt took a step closer, and you instinctively took a step backward, until your back was against the wall. The proximity between you two was almost that of a finger length, but you didn't mind. 

He shook his head as he took a deep breath. 

He smelled of ale and the forest— of nature. 

"You're safe now. And so is our baby." 

"Until when?" 

It was all rainbows and sunshine, until thick black clouds fled up the sky, hiding the sun and it was all dark. 

"I—" Geralt began speaking, but almost immediately, he fell quiet, and you blinked, waiting for him to speak but no words came out of his throat. 

"What?" You asked.

"Do you regret this?" 

The question pulled you off guard as you were least expecting it. Your eyes went from widened to confused, as you tilted you head slightly and placed your palm against your side, parallel to the wall and using it to support yourself. 

Did you regret it?

"Which one? Having you use my body to find yourself a motive in life?" You asked, bitterly. 

"Meeting me I mean." 

"We didn't exactly meet in the best circumstances, Geralt," you chuckled nervously, bringing your palm to your front, your fingers hooking to his locket, as your fingers began toying with it, your eyes fixed on his, "the thing I remember, you fucked me on the Great Mount."

Geralt grunted under his breath, but he still leaned closer, letting his face dip, ever so slightly so that his lips were inclined to yours, aching to be pressed to them. He parted his lips, letting his tongue swipe over his bottom lip, as your fingers began trailing upwards, his locket now forgotten. 

Geralt closed his eyes, the instant he felt your fingers run against his chest up to his neck, as you suddenly grabbed a fistful of his collar and pulled him closer, your noses now touching, and your chests heaving out of control. 

"Tell me, Witcher, do Witchers dream?" You suddenly asked, your hand flying up to your head as you absentmindedly tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear. 

Geralt's lips twitched, and his eyebrows creased slightly, as though he was thinking hard. Finally, his face moved slightly, just a light bob, signalling a nod. 

"What do you dream of? What did you dream of most recently?" 

He blinked, tilting his head, "I saw you. You were in the woods."

You were captivated by him; frozen on spot, and he didn't even touch you, or hold you. It was like there was an imaginary force binding him to you, drawing the two of you together. 

"There was a woman long time back, I met her in Blaviken." 

You bit your lip hard, a taste of metal flooding your tastebuds. Why was this making you jealous? 

"I think I should go." You stepped away abruptly, and immediately took a step around, your hand flying to your heart, as you began fisting your fabric into a ball, your cheeks still heated up. Your steps were fast, and you didn't stop until you were at the end of the hallway when Geralt's voice rang out behind you, and you paused, just for a second but didn't turn around, only to let his words sink in. "Her name was Renfri. And she said something to me— The girl in the woods will be with you always. She is your destiny."

You gasped at the realization, his words slowly sinking into you, settling into everywhere in your body— your mind, your senses, your heart. You didn't look back, and instead you began running, towards the confines of your chambers, for you knew if you didn't, you wouldn't be able to stop yourself from falling into his arms.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What will you do with the words that came out of Geralt's mouth?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: badly written SMUT

You were practically pacing in your chambers, your arms crossed over your chest. You had been such a stupid fool, you ran away when he was finally opening up to you. What were you thinking?

He was practically telling you how he really felt, a lot coming from a man who hardly gave anything except for an occasional few grunts.

You wondered who this Renfri was, and what happened to her. Was he one of the women he bedded, adding her into the long never ending list of women Geralt had been inside of?

Suddenly, a loud pounding on your door sounded— pulling you out of your thoughts. You blinked, tilting your neck slowly to a side , scratching your chin lightly.

It could have been Geralt, but what confused you was the fact that you were secretly hoping that it wasn't anyone else.

Slowly, you reached for the lock and opened the door, just a tad bit, and as expected, you were met with wild white hair and sparkling golden orbs staring at you.

Your breathing hitched at his side, his hair messy and sticking to his face, his lips pressed together as he regarded you carefully, waiting for your actions.

Nibbling on your lower lip, you slowly moved out of the way, just a little, so you stepped behind the wooden door, out of his sight. You waited, as the door croak open, and he stepped in, shutting the door behind him, locking it.

What were you doing? You didn't understand, but somehow, this felt right.

He stayed like that for a few seconds, and if you were counting in your mind, you would have assumed that it was ten seconds, his back turned towards you, his perfectly toned back hidden under the fabric of his clothing. In slow motion, he turned towards you, his lips drawn together and you gave him a weak nod.

"You ran away," he murmured, his voice raspy and baritone low and intimidating.

"You left me no choice. You just said some things," you whispered, although it was just you and him.

"Did you not like what I said?" He skewered his head gently to one side, as he regarded you, studied you carefully; thinking. You wished you knew exactly what it was that he was thinking.

"It depends, Geralt. I liked what you said about the woods, but it made me wonder about a lot of things."

Slowly, you turned away from him and moved to the side of your bedding as you sat down against the edge of it and all the while, you could feel the Witcher's burning gaze on you, making you even more nervous than you already were. Why was he making you feel this way? Like your insides were on fire?

"You look tired," he said, coolly; as though oblivious to the effect he was having on you.

"I can't really sleep after a particularly tormenting nightmare," you mumbled, absentmindedly, trying to make small talk, until the Witcher stepped closer, and you looked up to see him standing over you, your knees touching his legs.

"Would it help you sleep if I am here?"

You kept looking at him, the corner of your lips curving into a weak, yet thankful smile and you nodded, blinking. Maybe it would help with him watching over you. You bent forward, reaching out for your boots to take them off you when Geralt grabbed your hand, and you gasped, watching him as he slowly fell to his knees in front of you— now face level with you.

"Here, _let me do it,_ " he mumbled the words incoherently, as he slowly placed his fingers on your ankle, and lifted your foot up, his fingers working to free you off the boots. He was able to do it in two quick tugs, and you were thankful as you relaxed under his touch, and hummed a thank you in response. Without having him to even ask you for your other foot, you slowly raised it slightly, and Geralt's fingers fixed on the hem of your ankle length dress, as he rolled it up, almost slightly to find your boot. While doing this, his fingers unknowingly brushed against your skin, making you close your eyes in response.

When you fluttered them open again, he was still kneeling in front of you, looking beautiful just like he always did. You didn't realize that you were staring at him, until you felt him place his hand on your knee and give you a light squeeze.

"Your heart is racing."

"I— uh." You flushed, running your hand through your hair— of course, the man could hear your heartbeat, and of course he understood how wildly crazy he was driving you.

"The floor is cold, Geralt," you drawled, absentmindedly, hoping to hide your blush under the flickering torch that lit your room, the only source of light.

"I'd like to stay down here for a while, if you don't mind."

"Why is that?" You raised an eyebrow, looking down at him.

"You remind me of a goddess— a seer that I was told of in Kaer Morhen," he rasped, and you parted your lips, letting your tongue moisten your lower lip.

"Remind you how?" You asked, ignoring how Geralt's fingers were now strumming and stroking your knee, over the fabric of your robe, making your core throb in retaliation to it.

"Hm," he began, "she made my heart race." You jerked slightly, straightening up upon hearing his words. Curiously, you leaned forward only slightly, so you could look him in the eye, "Was she beautiful?"

He smiled, the corner of his lips tugging upwards, "It was an illusion, she had horns in real life, and crooked, black teeth."

You frowned and swatted his hand away, and he couldn't help but let out a snort, in amusement, "I don't have horns."

He gave a rumbling snort, straight from his chest. Instantly, you pressed your legs together, as your core ached for him.When you opened your eyes again, he was smirking.

"Want me to _leave_?" He asked, his voice raspy.

"No, I want you to _stay_."

The corner of his lips tugged slightly, and he placed his palm on your knee, over the fabric of your dress. In a single big tug, he lifted your dress up until your thigh to expose your calves and you whelped in surprise.

"Lie back," he commanded, and like a good girl, you did until you were laying on your back, your fingers gripping the bedsheets, your eyes trained to the ceiling, the Witcher kneeling in between your legs.

Geralt's palm pressed flat against the inside of your thigh, and his movement began, upwards, slow and torturous, making you press your legs together as the shudder threatened to tingle against your core.

"Open your legs," he almost slapped the inside of your thigh when you pressed them shut, and involuntarily in retaliation to his voice, you parted them once again, gasping when you felt him place two fingers against your lips over the fabric of your underwear.

He bent slightly, pressing his lips to your flush skin, peppering your inner thigh with kisses shooting upwards, and instinctively, you began arching your back, melting away into his touch, your fingers fisting his hair, "Uh, Ger—"

His finger hooked to your underwear, and he, with one quick tug, pulled it down, revealing your delicate womanhood, something that he had very well explored before; yet it felt like it was the first time, and he suddenly felt needy, and desperate again.

He grunted in a needy way, clenching his fists together; your odour was driving him crazy. You were like a honeycomb, full of sweet nectar and Geralt couldn't wait to lap it all up.

Everything started spinning around you, in a nice way. You gasped and you moaned, arching your back as you spread your legs for him, nudging him to continue; his tongue ravaging your lips, lapping up all of your sweet juices. Geralt of Rivia was like a hungry bear, and you were that lucky pot of honey, and he was in no mood to share or to leave any of it. He wanted it all, for himself.

* * *

You couldn't help but feel like there were sparks erupting in every crevice of your body, like fireworks on display; when Geralt kissed you. His lips on you, your hands tugging his hair, his teeth biting your plump lower lip, it was majestic, carnal, and full of pent up desire.

It surprised you, though, how much gentleness this bigan was capable of, especially with you. He held you like a ceramic doll; that you'd break if he held you too hard.

He was on your bed now, laying on his front, both his arms holding him up so he didn't end up crushing you under the weight of his body.

"Geralt, what are you doing to me?" You purred, tight lipped, running your fingers delicately over his naked chest as he peppered the side of your neck now with trailing, wet kisses. You could feel his hardness press against your core, slowly driving you crazy with your hidden desires now flowing out like an overflowing vessel.

"I can smell your _desire_ ," he growled against your ear, sending shivers down your spine and tingle in your toes, your core throbbing in response to this beautiful man on top of you, "tell me you _want_ me."

You let your eyes flutter lightly, your hand slowly scaling across his perfectly chiseled chest until you were palming his already hardened cock and he grunted against your shoulder, "I _need you_ , Geralt."

His eyes shone; ablaze with his uncontrollable lust, his cock already throbbing underneath your grip, aching to fill you up. With one quick tug, you hoisted your leg up against his shoulder, leaving your core exposed, dripping and glistening for him to see, and to relish. "Ask me to stop, if I hurt you," he muttered, in a low voice and you nodded, biting down on your lower lip in anticipation.

Almost slowly, he entered you, stretching you out, bit by bit; his forehead now resting against you.

"Is it okay?" He asked, his thickness adjusting to the feeling of you.

You nodded, taking in a mouthful of air and letting it out, "You don't have to be gentle, Geralt."

Geralt couldn't help but purse his lips together; struggling to contain the smirk that was threatening to break out against his lips, and what followed was a series of curses, grunts and animalistic thrusts.

In the middle of it, Geralt flipped you over so you were on your fours, and he had an ample view of your ass. From one hand he smacked your butt cheek, revelling in the moans that escaped your lips— it was like music to his ears, and all he ached to do was hear you scream his name, over and over again. He had been aching to do this for long now, and it was finally happening.

Another series of thrusts and moans ensued and you didn't last much longer than that, your pussy clenching against his cock, which tripped him over the edge, until finally , with one final twitch, his hot seed spilled inside of you.

* * *

The two of you lay in sheets, your naked bodies entangled each others. You fit perfectly into Geralt's broad arms, like a piece of a puzzle. He spooned you almost, his arm resting lightly against your waist, his palm cupping your baby bump, his fingers gently stroking it.

"Geralt?" You said, in a baby like voice, keeping your face away from him.

At first, he didn't respond, but only hummed, pulling you closer against his flush body.

"Who was Renfri? And why was what she said so important to you?"

Geralt propped himself up on his elbow, and he peered down at you. Slowly, reluctantly, he pried his palm off your tummy, using it to push your hair away from your face so he could look at you.

"You're trying to make me talk."

"So?" You chuckled, making him almost flash you a smile.

"Okay, she was a Princess, and I killed her," as the words stormed out of Geralt's mouth, you felt a sort of sadness in his voice. Although you wanted to ask him why, you couldn't bring yourself to. This subject was still touchy for him.

"You don't have to talk about her if it means you're gonna be sad all night."

He sighed and laid down again, slowly turning on his back, letting his palm rest against the back of his head. His sweat adorned chest glistened under the flickering torch, making him look like a Greek God.

"That's not what I wanted to talk about."

"Then?" This time you sat up, turning towards him and regarding him carefully.

"I'm leaving for Redania tomorrow," he looked away; anywhere but into your eyes and it stung you like a bee sting suddenly.

"W-Why? Did I do something wrong? Do you regret—" You stammered.

"Fuck, no." Geralt silently cursed himself and quickly sat up, so now he was parallel to you. He brought both his palms to your cheeks, cupping them and he pulled your face to him, "it pains me. To _leave_ you. But I need to bring Roach back."

It was like someone had breathed life into you when you heard those words. Your face flushing with relief, you cupped his cheek in retaliation and nodded, "Oh, I thought you regretted this. Which is why you wanted to leave." He shook his head, his thumb gently grazing over the side of your lip, tracing your lower lip.

"Will you come back then?" You asked, biting your lip. 

"I will come back to you. And to our baby."

The two of you stayed like that; your foreheads resting against each others , for a few more seconds before he patted against the pillow and motioned for you to lie down. He then lied down next to you once you had and pulled the covers delicately over you, smiling. 

"Go to sleep, love."


	12. Chapter 12

You woke up to a ray of sunlight falling right across your face, for a massive window was just right next to where the bed was. It still took you a full minute to completely open your eyes.

You smiled to yourself, when you heard the faint rise and fall of the man's chest next to you, and you turned to your side, your eyes falling on his peaceful form.

He looked peaceful, his hair messy and all over his face. He had an arm tucked around your waist still, and yet even in his sleep, the hold he had on you was light.

You rolled over, only slightly so that you were completely glued to him, listening to him stir from his sleep, and slowly, open his drowsy eyes.

"Morning, love," you whispered to him, bringing your palm up to cup his cheeks, your thumb stroking gently over.

A faint smile crossed his lips; and his hand came to rest against your waist. In one tug, he had pulled you into him, your body pressing against yours as he brought his lips to yours, and kissed you.

You moaned in a low voice, Geralt's morning erection, like a hard rock, pressed to your core; his steady grinding into you causing your core to ache, "Geralt—"

"Hm?" He chuckled in his low, morning raspy voice, still grinding into you.

"Don't tell me I didn't warn you, Witcher," you playfully smacked him across his chest, and his eyebrow shot up in question; but before he could even reply, you were already climbing up on his lap, straddling him and his hard cock.

His head fell back against the pillow, and a groan left his lips. His hand came to rest on either of your hips, as he gripped you tight.

In a really painfully slow move, you went down on him, until his thickness completely filled you up, stretching you up bit by bit. You looked down at Geralt in his eyes, and he looked at you, as you began rolling your hips, riding the Witcher.

"Fuck," Geralt cursed, as you stopped your movements all together, and suddenly, began rolling your hips once again, feeling Geralt almost squirm underneath you.

When Geralt felt that you were tiring, he suddenly flipped you around, and you coiled your feet around his waist, as he continued to ravage you, pulling his slick coated cock out completely, before slamming hard into you. Your nails ripped through the flesh on his back, your nails dragging over his flesh, as you arched your back and let out a low pitched moan, driving the Witcher crazy.

This time, neither of you lasted long; and you finally exploded, stars in your eyes, as your pussy clenched around his cock, and a sudden electric current shot through your body as your orgasm took over, leaving you trembling and shaking. This was enough to push the Witcher over the edge; his movements had become sloppier, his thrusts dragged but it didn't take long for him to mutter a curse under his breath, his cock twitching once before his hot seed spilt inside of you.

You groaned against Geralt's sweaty forehead against yours; your fingers threading delicately through the Witcher's locks as he slumped in bed next to you. You could feel his breaths on you, and it took you a moment for the realization to sink in that Geralt was actually leaving for a while.

He noticed the lost look in your eyes, and he propped himself up on his elbow, looking at you.

"Say it," he chastised you.

You sighed, letting your hand rest against your growing bump, tenderly rubbing circles over it.

"When will you be back, Geralt?" You bit your lip.

A faint smile crossed over his otherwise stoic features. He leaned forward, so his face was.above yours, his eyes gazing into yours with utmost tenderness.

"I thought you hated my company."

"That's not true," you protested, sitting up and rubbing your eyes with the balls of your palms, "I just didn't like you back then. Things are different now. I realized you aren't what you show others to be."

He nodded and leaned forward so he could kiss you, but before he could, there was a loud knock on your wooden door. 

You glared from him towards the door that was pounding. 

_"Aunt [Y/N]?!"_

"This is why I prefer the woods. No early morning visitors," Geralt said in a gruff voice, and laid back down casually. You smacked him hard against his chest and he growled at you in retaliation.

"GERALT, _HIDE_. YOU CANT BE FOUND HERE. YOU KNOW _HOW MOTHER_ IS—"

"You want me to hide?" He looked at you in disbelief, his jaw almost hanging loosely. 

You gave him the most innocent puppy dog eyes and Geralt couldn't help but groan. You were irresistible like that. 

_"Please,_ Geralt _—"_

 _"Aunt [Y/N] ? Are you alright?"_ Ciri called out from outside.

"Yes, Cirilla, give me a moment, I'll be right out, love," you called out, and you turned towards Geralt, quickly tossing him his shirt. You motioned to him with his eyes to quickly get dressed, but he just smirked at you, intentionally leaping off the bed at a pace of a snail's.

"Geralt, can you hurry up?" You snapped as you pulled the covers off your body and began pulling your slip over your head. You could feel Geralt's gaze over your form and you sighed, in frustration, "Geralt."

"Then stop distracting me," He smirked, moving round the bed towards you, his eyes hungry and clouded with lust. He pushed you to the wall, placing both his hands on either side of your head as he ran his thick, beefy fingers under your slip, until he was cupping your breasts.

To be fair, Geralt couldn't keep his hands off you ever since you had let him close. He had been fighting off these feelings for too long now and ever since he had seen you grow his baby in your belly, your belly swelling up as the time passed, his feelings for you grew, warmth filling up his otherwise cold heart.

"Geralt, we can't, Ciri is right outside—"

"She must have left by now. You didn't open the door," he took your taut nipple into his two fingers, pinching them and you winced, in pain and pleasure mix, letting the back of your head rest against the wall.

"You're so beautiful with my child inside you," Geralt placed his palm on your belly, rolling your slip up so he could see your bump. He smiled at how round and beautiful you looked, nurturing his baby.

Suddenly there was a knock again.

"Aunt [Y/N]? Are you okay?"

"Geralt, please!!" You hissed, and Geralt groaned in annoyance, turning away as his eyes scanned your bedroom, until he saw a bannister in the other end of the room. He walked up to it, pushing himself behind it. You took a deep breath and straightened your slip, unlocking the door.

"Aunt [Y/N]. I was starting to get worried," Ciri stepped into your room, eyeing you, and your clothes carefully.

"Sorry, I sort of overslept? Anyway, is everything okay?" You asked, nervously running your hand through your hair.

"I just wanted to let you know grandmother wants you to get dressed in your best tonight, there's a few special guests arriving, just to see you."

You raised your eyebrow, frowning slightly, "Guests?"

"I wish I knew."

"Thanks Ciri," You smiled and placed your palm on her shoulder, squeezing it tight.

The little girl nodded at you, her blue eyes twinkling as she gave you a small smile back. She turned around and began walking through the door. She paused when she reached the door, and smirked slightly, biting her lip, "Aunt [Y/N], I'd wear a scarf tonight if I wear you," she winked, and ran away.

At first you didn't understand what she meant by it, but once she was gone, Geralt stepped.out of his hiding spot and you gave him a confused look. He cleared his throat, and slowly placed both hands on your shoulders, turning you around to face the body size mirror and you looked at the countless darkening bruises you had on your body, from where Geralt had sucked against your flesh.

Flustered you buried your hands in your face.

* * *

"I would have rather stayed in the palace here with you, [Y/N]—" Jaskier whined, throwing the sack that he was holding around his shoulder, while Geralt just grunted in response to his words and you shook your head. You were walking in the middle of the two of them, Geralt on your right and Jaskier on your left.

"Jaskier, I need you to go with Geralt," you whispered.

"You know he can take care of himself, you're making me miss on the palace life, the luxuries and the rich food."

"I thought you wanted your lute, Jaskier," Geralt suddenly deadpanned, cutting Jaskier off, and you couldn't help but press your palm to your lips to suppress the unladylike snort that escaped your lips.

The three of you reached the front gate of the palace, and you couldn't help but feel sad. Geralt's fingers twitched, brushing against your palm and suddenly, he clasped his hand in yours, the skirt of your dress hiding your entwined hands from the rest of the world.

"You take care of yourself."

"I'm not the one leaving, Geralt. I'm not the one going back to the sorceress," you whispered in a low voice; a hint of jealousy playing in your voice.

"I'm going to get Roach back. I promise there's nothing left between Yen and me." He squeezed your hand.

You stopped walking as you had already reached the palace door. The heavy doors were opened by the guards and you kept standing there, watching the two of them walk out of the palace until they weren't in sight anymore. You sighed to yourself, and started walking back inside.

You knew there were probably thousands of people in the castle right now; yet your heart felt lonely.

You spent the next three hours locked up in your bedchambers, sleeping most of the time. It was only at around sunset when one of your mother's handmaidens woke you up and told you that the Queen wanted you to be there at the dinner tonight, that some really important guests were coming over.

You looked at the beautiful golden dress that she was carrying in her hands. It was pure gold, with sparkling gems strewn to it. It looked expensive. As if the handmaiden had seen your expressions, she smiled and whispered, "this belongs to your mother. She wore this on her wedding day to King Eist. Now she wants you to have it."

She noted the look of discomfort that flashed in your eyes as you reached out and took the heavy dress from her.

"Why would she want me to wear this? Can't I wear something more simple? More comfortable?"

"Queen's orders, my lady."

You knew best to argue with the handmaiden so you groaned, rubbing your baby bump tenderly as you began slipping out of the simpler dress that you had been wearing. The handmaiden assisted you with the dress, and finally after an hour or so, you looked at yourself in the mirror.

The dress did seem to be a little tight from your waist given the fact that your baby bump was almost six months huge now but it did make you look beautiful, and divine. The gold colour blended perfectly with your skin tone, the pale make up that your handmaiden had done for you finally made you look like the Princess you truly were. If only Geralt had seen you like this, he wouldn't have been able to keep his hands off you.

* * *

Faint music from a lute played inside the hall, as you walked towards it, holding the skirt of your dress. You were trying your best to make your waddle a less of a waddle and more of a walk, but it was proving more difficult as your baby was growing inside of you fast, making it difficult for you to not waddle about due to your growing bump.

One of the guards opened the door for you, and you stepped into the hall, your eyes falling on your mother, Ciri and Eist seated on either side of her. Ciri, upon looking at you, couldnt help but openly frown at you, but Eist and Calanthe seemed to be in a jolly mood.

"Come on, join us, love, we would like to speak to you before our guests are here," Calanthe pointed to an empty high chair in front of her.

You nodded, and lowered yourself into it, keeping your eyes fixed on her.

Calanthe turned to Eist, and gave her a look, before she lifted the goblet in front of her and brought it up to her lips.

"We talked a lot, and decided something, love."

Her eyes fell down as she fixed her gaze on your bump, and then back towards your face.

"I should, perhaps, excuse myself?" Eist muttered, but Ciri snorted, "Why? I think you should stay. This is your masterplan too."

"Cirilla, leave us. Go back to your chambers—" Calanthe said, sternly.

You didn't understand what was up with them. You kept glancing from Ciri to Calanthe who finally looked at you.

"We love our grandchild. We really do. And we know how powerful and strong that child is. Which is why, we have made a decision. You will marry King Foltest of Temeria." Calanthe blinked.

"What?" You snapped, your voice coming out sharper than usual.

"Your union with Foltest will save the baby from being a called a bastard child, [Y/N]. He will be a _legitimate heir to the Temerian Kingdom_ , and he and you will be protected."

Ciri stood up and she walked over to you. She placed a palm on your shoulder and squeezed it. Hot tears were already beginning to form in your eyes. You began blinking, rapidly, trying to get the cloudiness to go away.

"Are you serious mother? My baby's father is very much with me. You want me to wed King Foltest? I want Geralt," you whined.

"Listen [Y/N]—" Calanthe stood up, her angry eyes looking at you, "You are not an ordinary woman. You are the Princess of Cintra. You cannot leave everything for a Witcher on the road."

"But mother I love Geralt!" You shouted back, curling your fists against the fabric of the dress.

"We all sacrifice, child. For what is right. Foltest is the key to securing your future. Also, you should thank him [Y/N]. He is accepting your hand in marriage even knowing the fact that you are carrying another man's bastard child inside you."

You flinched at the harshness of your own mother's words, the mother you had tried so hard to be in the life of.

"I don't want to marry Foltest. I want to live my life with Geralt."

"And do what? Assist that Witcher in killing monsters?" Calanthe spat, taking a sip of the drink, shaking her in distaste, "You think you can own it all? Have a Witcher sit on the throne to Cintra by your side?"

"Mother, this throne means nothing to me if there's no Geralt by my side."

You turned around, and turning your back towards them, you began walking away, ignoring your mother who kept screaming at you, "Do you think you have a choice? This Kingdom chose you, you didn't choose this kingdom. You are going to marry Foltest, [Y/N]. Whether you like it or not."

* * *

You wiped the base of your eyes with the balls of your palm and sniffled as you looked at yourself in the mirror. The dress lay discarded on the floor, and you were dressed in a slip. Your fingers grazed over the marks that Geralt had given you last night, that one night of passion you had shared with him, and your heart ached. The man had marked you for himself, and even the destiny had. He was your lover and the father of your baby, yet you were now being faced with this gruesome situation of being married off to someone else— someone that wasn't Geralt of Rivia. 

You were startled when Ciri wrapped her arms around your shoulders and let her head rest against your shoulder. Well, atleast there was someone who supported you, and your decision. 

"I am sorry, Aunt [Y/N]. Grandmother can be overbearing." 

"Can be?" You asked, sarcastically and she kept quiet, her head still resting against your shoulder, until she propped her head up and turned to you, her expressions serious. 

"What are you going to do?" She asked. 

You took a deep breath, and looked down at your bump, the only thing left to remind you of the man who had promised he would come back for you. 

"I will run away. I don't want the Kingdom Ciri, if it means I have to marry Foltest. I cannot betray Geralt." 

"Can I come with you?" She asked, and you turned towards her, shaking her head. 

"Someone needs to be with mother, Ciri. And if it can't be me, it has to be you."

You told her, taking both her hands on yours, your thumb stroking gently over her knuckles. 

The two of you stayed in momentary silence; before the two of you dropped each other's hands. She stood up and gave you an apologetic glance before she started walking out when you called her. 

"Ciri, will you help me? I need to leave."


	13. Chapter 13

"You should wait for midnight, Aunt [Y/N]. Once grandmother and the King have retired to their beds, I can take you down to the secret passageways that opens into the woods. Once the sun rises, you can hide into one of the merchant carts that will whisk you off to Redania," your niece kept speaking, but you were in a half mind to listen to her, your own mind working like a racehorse, trying to figure out if you could use your magic and build a portal to Redania. It will save you the time, and definitely the efforts, but the question was, will it work?

"Is my sack ready Samara?" You turned to Samara, one of the handmaidens that had grown a liking to you.

The handmaiden smiled and nodded, placing the light sack she had packed with a few comfortable dresses, and a few essentials and herbs that you could require during your journey, mostly ones that would help with your aches and your morning sickness.

"Ciri, I don't know what I would've done without you, love," You smiled at her.

Ciri on the other hand, instead of using her words, prefered to use her actions. She leapt towards you, engulfing you in a side hug, affectionate and warm, that you found yourself melting into, "I haven't known you long, Aunt [Y/N] but I feel like I've known you forever. You're just like my mother."

"Now this isn't the last time we meet, my sweet darling, I promise we will meet again, and it will be sooner than I've imagined, now it's time for me to leave," you told her and she looked at you, frowning.

"But it isn't midnight yet, and grandmother wouldn't be sleeping yet."

"Ciri, I have elder blood in my veins for a reason," you smiled, "and maybe this is it. Now watch."

You let your eyes flutter close, and your eyes rolled back in the back of your head as you conjured up a portal, and Ciri gasped, looking at you.

You blinked your eyes open again, and pulled her into one last hug, before you grabbed the light satchel that Samara had packed, you stepped into the portal and the portal vanished, leaving Ciri with her jaws slackened and her eyes thrown wide open.

* * *

You gasped as though you were being sucked in through the portal, that you actually were, until you fell out of it, on your knees. Your palm protectively held your baby bump, to protect it from any hard that was to come to your baby with the fall. Groaning, you rubbed two fingers gently against your stomach, as you struggled to pull yourself up to your feet; the weight of your growing child inside of you causing you to have a difficulty in easily lifting you up. Oh, how you missed Geralt right now, if he was here, he would have lifted you up in a single tug.

This reminded you of why you were here, right outside the sorceress's doorstep. You were here for Geralt.

You mentally cursed yourself for doing this— for being stupid enough to bring yourself into the lion's den once again— you tried to remind yourself of the last time you were here, and how Yennefer had been. But the thought of staying in Cintra, being forced to marry a man you didn't love, seemed like a far worse sentence for you. Atleast, in Redania, you could hope that Geralt would protect you.

The question, however was, _where was Geralt?_

Your mind was clawing at you, asking you to head back from wherever you had come from, but your heart didn't agree. It was hell-bent on finding the man you loved, and you had a feeling you would find him here. Roach's distant whinny only signalled to you that you were looking for Geralt in the right place. If Roach was here, it meant that Geralt was here too.

You climbed up the familiar flight of stairs once again, until you placed your palm flat against the wooden door, and the door croak open, and you were greeted by a strong essence of lavender oil, and extreme silence.

You looked from your left to right, your eyes alert your ears trained to catch any familiar sound that could help you in looking for Geralt; but all you could hear was the sound of your own heart, that was racing uncontrollably. Your palms twitched, your body surging with your magic, and part excitement to run into your lover again, but something still loomed over the back of your mind— an inexplicable fear that you didn't know why it was there.

Your eyes fixed themselves at the hallway that began, once this one ended, and you could hear someone talk, in muffled voices.

Curious, you tiptoed as close as you could, until you fixed yourself by the end of the hallway and craned your neck, taking a look.

You saw Jaskier standing there; his back was turned towards you, and his fists were curling into fists that gripped the fabric of his pants.

"Jaskier?! Jas—"

Jaskier's eyes widened when he heard your voice; you registered the look of horror on his face, the way the colour drained from his face, making him look paler than what he normally was.

"[Y/N].. No, no, no you shouldn't be here, you shouldn't.." You frowned at him, squinting your eyes in a confused way, as you made your way towards him. Your frown only worsened when Jaskier stepped in front of you, blocking your way so you couldn't pass.

"Jaskier, _what the hell?_ "

" _You..You..can't be here_ , Yennefer is inside, if she sees you—" He stammered, swiping a palm over his face as he tried to manoeuvre you away from whatever it was that he was hiding from you.

"Which is why you are getting me to Geralt quietly," you whispered and tugged on his arm, trying to pull him towards you. When he didn't move, and began nervously glancing at the door next to you, your eyebrow shot up and you couldn't help but let go off him. 

"You're hiding something from me, Jaskier. What's—" Weakly, you raised up your right hand, your fingers trembling as you pointed your index finger towards the door. A bead of sweat trickled down the side of your temple, disappearing into your cloak. A lump formed inside your throat, and you swallowed hard, looking at the door. What if something had happened to Geralt? Were you too late? "What's behind that door, Jaskier?" You tried to eye the window that was behind him, but Jaskier was still blocking your way.

"It's.. you really.. I—"

"Jaskier, move—" You pushed past him and before he could grab your arm, and pull you back, you were already waddling towards the window to see for yourself what Jaskier was trying to hide from you but was clearly doing an incredibly bad job at it.

"Don't! [Y/N]!"

Jaskier called out after you but it was too late. You wish you had listened to him. You wished you had listened and left when he said. Atleast your heart wouldn't have cracked the way it did when you saw Geralt laying back, his fingernails digging into Yennefer's hips as the woman straddled him, and his cock, her hips rolling fervently as she rode him.

You moved away instantly, your palm flying to your chest as a sharp pain hit you in your heart. Looking up in disbelief, you gave your friend a look that reeked of betrayal.

"So this is what you were hiding?! Is this why Geralt came here?! So he could have that witch fuck him like that?!"

"[Y/N] listen, it's not what it looks like, okay? You need to trust me and come with—"

"Jaskier, I trusted you once, and I trusted him once. I am not going to make the same mistake once again," you snarled at him, venom leaking from your eyes and from your words. You were shaking like an autumn leaf, ready to fall and get crushed underneath someone's foot. You turned away, turning a blind eye and a dead ear to Jaskier, who was pleading with you to listen to him but you had had enough as you began walking away, until Jaskier grabbed your wrist and pulled you into the room nearby, shutting the door.

"Listen to me, [Y/N]. Geralt is _not_ Geralt, he is under a hex or something. That witch _did_ something to him," he didn't let go off your wrist, but you gaped at him, wide mouthed.

" _What?_ " You blinked, in disbelief.

He nodded, "that is what I was trying to tell you. Geralt is under her control. This is why you shouldn't be here. Because if she finds out you're here, even Geralt won't be there to protect you." 

* * *

"WHERE ARE YOU WHEN I NEED YOU?!! WHERE ARE YOU??! I KNOW YOU CAN HEAR ME," You screamed at the top of your lungs, kneeling down by the cliff, your hands running through your hair, tears running down your cheeks.

You looked at the vicinity in front of you and you could see was the doom, and the darkness.

You felt helpless, hopeless and alone.

"I thought you would have learnt by now, how weakness makes your mind clog up."

You heard the voice you were struggling to seek and reach out to, and you let out a sigh as you stood up, turning towards her, "Tissaia."

"You were calling for me, child."

You shot towards her, until you fell down on your knees in front of her, letting her in— into your vulnerability and weakness.

"I lost, she won. She has Geralt under her control, and soon, she would have my baby too." You hiccuped, sniffling between your tears, and coughs.

You tried reaching for her, but your hand passed through her, and you blinked in confusion. Tissaia only smiled.

"It's a spell, child. Now listen to me," she knelt down in front of you, and you slowly lifted your dark, soggy eyes and fixed them on hers.

"Just remember, sometimes it takes losing everything you own in order to gain everything you ever wanted."

She smiled at you, craning her neck to one side as her lips curled and you gave her a confused look, bringing your palm up to your face and wiping your tears away.

"You are stronger than Yennefer, [Y/N]. Only you don't know it yet."

"I had Geralt by my side, Tissaia. And now I don't have him. How am I supposed to break this hex? Or whatever the hell this is and get him back?!" You cried.

"His body might be bound by the hex, but his heart isn't."

You bit your lip, almost drawing out blood, tasting the copper on your taste buds as you whispered, "but Witchers don't have a heart that feels."

"That's where you are wrong. And if you don't believe me, try it yourself."

And just like that, the spell that had brought Tissaia de Vries to you, ended and you were left alone, still kneeling down by the cliff.

* * *

These brick walls that acted like a cocoon to Yennefer, were like a prison to you. Just the looks of the structure; the gloomy red stone walls, brought with it an uncontrollable suffocation and the desire to leave, bit it also suddenly brought the need to fight for what was yours.

Tissaia was right. Maybe losing Geralt to Yennefer was the key for you to embrace yourself truly, and find the power that was hidden within you.

You squinted your eyes, as you stood at the bottommost step, and looked up at the hallway that was going to decide your fate, and Geralt's as you began climbing those stairs.

By the time you reached the top most stair, you were writhing in rage. Slowly, you fisted your fingers, bringing it up to your chest. Your teeth began chattering, as though you were cold, but you knew that wasn't the case. Your body was burning, uncontrollably so and suddenly, you let out a loud scream, throwing out your fisted palm towards the door, and the door flew off its hinges, crashing against the wall. 

Yennefer screamed at the sudden intrusion, eyeing the door and then eyeing you, but she kept straddling Geralt, who looked like he was indeed, in a hex. His eyes were raging red, sweat covering him like a blanket, as he yanked her hard, instigating her to keep riding his cock. 

"Oh, I see you found us, I am sorry to say it isn't exactly how you pictured us. What did you imagine? That we would be throwing out swords at each other?" Yennefer's words ended with a slow, teasing roll of her hips and Geralt growled in retaliation to it, as he began hitting her with his unrelenting thrusts.

"Geralt?" 

Geralt shut his eyes, his fingers digging into her hips as he lifted his head up and regarded you. 

"I'm sorry, [Y/N]. I can't stop, I can't fucking stop—" he growled a he slammed his cock hard into her and you closed your eyes, biting your lip. When you opened your eyes again, Yennefer was smirking at you. 

"You could join us if you want, love." 

"Free him of the hex, Yennefer," you snarled at her, rage filling you up once again and she only smiled. 

"What is in it for me? Let me see." She pursed her lips and then gave you a coy look, before leaning down to trail her tongue over Geralt's Adam's apple, then looking up at you, "No. No can do."

"Then don't tell me I didn't warn you." 

Yennefer's face contorted into a scowl, but you gave her a look of pure terror. Your eyes darkened, a shade three times darker than your usual orbs, and your fists curled. Suddenly, a force shot out, pushing Yennefer away, making Geralt immediately sit up, his eyes still raging with red. 

"Take that hex off my lover."

You warned; but Yennefer only smirked, rubbing the back of her head where she had taken a hit when her head had struck the wall. 

"Geralt love." She curled her lips coyly, and Geralt grunted, a vein almost popping on his eyebrow. He gave you a look of pure despair, and a look of giving up, as he grabbed his own cock, in exasperation and threw back his head, pleasuring himself, trying to free himself of the Mage's hex.

"Try everything you can , [Y/N]. Only I can free him of his hex, and his so obvious discomfort." 

You let out a loud scream, watching cracks appear on the ground just underneath where Yennefer was. She snarled in anger, looking down at her feet as creepers began to crawl up her body. Suddenly, she began laughing, "Are you going to use my spell on me now?" 

"No, it's a modified, and a better version," you hissed at her, and suddenly, the creepers turned to iron chains, locking her to where she was. 

Yennefer growled, trying to free herself from the shackles but your powers bound her to the wall, the chains holding her captive. 

You moved to Geralt's side immediately and grabbed his wrist, pulling his hand away. You fixed yourself in between his feet and brought both your hands to his cheeks, forcing him to look at you. 

"You have to fight this Geralt, you have to." 

"I can't, my love. I can't fight this. I need —" he growled, and barked in rage, moving his hands away from yours and locking them above his head so he didn't hurt you. 

"Move away from me, I'm a fucking monster right now."

You glanced from Geralt to Yennefer, who was now laughing at you, mocking you, her lips trembling from the way she was laughing, yet she tried to pry off the chains. 

"You may have me locked up, but how are you going to free your lover from my hex? He needs me." She spat, her eyes glaring at you.

You took a deep breath, and slowly turned towards Geralt. You grabbed his chin and pulled it up, slamming your lips to his as you mumbled between the kiss, "I will break this hex." 

Your hands travelled to the buttons on your chest, your lips locked with the Witcher in a battle, as though a battle of life and death; and you practically ripped off your dress, letting it fall to the floor. You placed one hand on Geralt's shoulder and pushed him backwards so he was laying on his back, as you climbed up on top of him. 

Yennefer kept watching; glaring as you slowly positioned Geralt's raging cock against your core, and slowly, lowered yourself down on him, moaning as he filled you up. Geralt sat up the minute you descended him, his eyes slowly fixing on yours, his arms coming to hold you by your waist. 

"Look at me, love," You whispered, moving in a rhythm along with him.

He parted his lips, letting out a low, guttural groan of pleasure as you worked him up, slowly freeing him of the sorceress's hex, watching as the red of his irises began paving way to his bright, golden orbs.

Geralt relaxed into your touch, as you rode his slick coated cock, his face now resting against your bare chest, his breathing punctured as you let him ride his high, right in front of Yennefer's angry eyes. 

You let out a moan, arching your back as your pussy clenched rapidly around his cock, and immediately, Geralt's own orgasm followed until he had filled you up with his seed. 

"How did you?" He said, his voice raspy, and course. 

You smiled, as you slowly nuzzled your nose against him, licking the outline of his lips gently, before planting a kiss on his lips, "I didn't, you did. The hex didn't take you completely, my love. She had a control on your body, but your heart." You slowly placed your palm on his heart and he looked down at your hand and then back up, before his own hand came to rest on your cheek, his thumb stroking your lip,"I love you, [Y/N]."


	14. Chapter 14

"I'm still here, you know?" Jaskier deadpanned, kicking a stone that came his way, cradling his long lost lute like a baby.

You chuckled at his words and sunk back into your lover's arms, who was seated on the mare behind you, your head now resting against his sturdy chest as you looked up at him and he looked down at you, smirking slightly.

"Come on Geralt, Jaskier's jealous. He thinks you've stopped focusing on him now that I'm here," you giggled playfully as Geralt shook his head, amused and craned his neck slightly, giving your earlobe a bite.

"Well, I'm not jealous, but I definitely feel like a third wheel, and in dire need of an inn—"

"Or a brothel," you added, and Geralt hummed in agreement with you, his thick, veiny arms locking around your now wide girth. "On a serious note, Geralt. Can we stop? I really need to take a piss."

"Gosh, [Y/N]. You're the Princess of Cintra!"

"So?" You scowled, taking your foot out of the sattle and jutting out your leg so you could kick your friend's bottom but he dodged it, "Do princesses not take a piss? Besides, I am not a Princess anymore."

"What?" Geralt and Jaskier said out loud, together. And you nodded. Whelp. In all the drama, you had forgotten to actually tell them why you had run away. Or that— you had run away.

"Well, I sort of left it?" You drawled, absentmindedly and Geralt nudged you slightly, looking down at you, concerned.

"Why?" He raised a brow.

"Well, it seems that not only did the Witcher had some things to hide," Jaskier began, and you glared at him, "by the looks of it, you have something to tell us [Y/N]?"

You scowled, running your hand sheepishly through your hair and began clearing your throat, when Jaskier interrupted, "Don't tell me Queen Calanthe decided to name your baby Podrick."

You gave him a look of disbelief at first; but couldn't keep a straight face, as you bursted out laughing.

"What's wrong with the name Podrick for a boy?" You asked, wiggling your brows at him, and Geralt shook his head, faintly, silently amused.

"Well, Princess [Y/N], if you have a boy, you are naming him after me. Jaskier, obviously?" He smiled at you, wiggling his brows in retaliation.

"Or maybe, Dandelion?" You began, and both Jaskier and Geralt muttered, "No." At the same time.

"I won't have my son named a flower, for fucks sake," he grumbled under his breath, and you pouted, pushing out your lower lip as you felt Geralt's palm ghost over your belly, protectively securing his palm over the bulge of it and you smiled.

"What happened in Cintra?" Geralt suddenly asked, manouvring the conversation back to where it had started from, and you looked down at your hands, rubbing them against the fabric of your dress.

"Mother wanted me to marry Foltest."

Geralt tugged at Roach's reins so hard, the poor stopped with a jostle and you were almost thrown forward, and had it not been the Witcher's powerful hold on you, you would have toppled off.

"Ouch," you cursed under your breath, and then tried to pacify the sudden uncomfortable silence between the three of you by making small talk, "What?"

"I'm sorry but your mother wanted you to marry that sister fucker? Isn't that right Geralt?" Jaskier nudged your foot that was in the saddle and you sighed, your shoulders tensing slightly. Geralt was morosely quiet, and although he was a man of few words, you felt like this revelation was going to stop the progress that he was making with you.

"She thought that's the only way to protect me. And this baby. Because a lot of enemies will want to get their hands on me. Although, it's stupid, right? I mean, I have Geralt to take care of me," you muttered absentmindedly, staring at the flock of birds that flew past your mare.

It was only when Geralt cleared his throat, a little to coursely, that you craned your neck slightly towards him and noticed how his jaw had clenched, and he was fisting the reins in his grip.

"Shall we move on? We should reach a village in an hour or two. We can see if an inn can accomodate us," he bluntly added, and you blinked, looking down at Jaskier and giving him a questioning look.

* * *

Lucky for the three of you, the three of you reached a nearby village sooner than you had expected. By that time, you were exhausted; your body sore at all the odd spots that you couldn't even put a name to or say it out loud. Geralt helped you get off Roach, his movements being tender, but he did not even once, _try to talk to you_. 

The three of you entered the tavern, Jaskier leading the way in while you waddled through in the middle, as much as your bump allowed you to move. Geralt was in the extreme end, and you couldn't see much of him, or hear from him, except for a few occasional grunts you received.

Geralt got the three of you the last of the two rooms that were available and Jaskier disappeared into the first one, leaving you and Geralt to settle down in your own shared room.

You sat down by the edge of the bed, the bed creaking when you put your weight on it. Geralt placed his sword by the chair, before his hands came to rest against the fabric of his shirt and he started prying it off.

"Are you going to say something?" You finally asked, pulling both your hands together and rubbing them as though you were cold, "You've been sullen ever since I told you about what happened in Cintra."

Geralt grunted under his breath, and instead of replying to you, he moved past you to where a metal bathing tub, big enough to fit in the two of you, had already been set out, the water warm, and steam arising out of it. Geralt lowered his slacks, letting it fall to the floor as he stepped out of it, practically ignoring you. You could hear the sound of him wading into the water.

Sighing to yourself, you slowly lifted yourself off the edge of the bed, and turned to face the witcher, who was now seated against the tub, his arms holding the sides of the tub as he looked at you. Slowly, you let your tunic drop to the floor as you stepped out of it. It would have been a lie to say that you felt sexy, especially with your baloon belly that didn't let you look down at your feet. But you really needed that warm bath, to cure the soreness you were feeling.

Geralt threw out his palm towards you when he saw you step into the bathtub and you were thankful for it. He helped you get in and finally, you settled himself in between the Witcher's legs, letting the back of your head rest against his sturdy chest, feeling the rise and the fall of it,"You're angry with me."

"Not with you. I'm angry in general," Geralt retorted, and you couldn't help but roll your eyes at him.

"I'm not marrying Foltest. You should know that. Not after all that happened between us." You stared at the ceiling, while Geralt scooped some water into his palms and poured them on top of your head, trying to give you a head bath.

"When you said that, it got me thinking," Geralt suddenly began, as his fingers began to lather against your wet hair, his fingers rubbing through your scalp, making all the tension and the knots in your body melt away, but what words followed afterwards, only made the tension once again spiral back, "What happens once you give birth? Will you and the baby travel and be on the roads with a Witcher? Who cannot settle in one place?"

"Geralt, where is all this coming from?" You turned to face him, letting your legs slide behind his body, with your baby bump now between you and his body forming a shield around it.

"Just got me thinking.. what kind of a life am I gonna be able to give you?"

Your fingers were now drawing intrinsic patterns over his chest, but your eyes were looking into his, trying to reach out to the man that hid beneath the facade of a cold, unemotional Witcher.

"I don't care Geralt, I don't care if our love's forbidden, all I care about is that I want to be with you, I want us to raise our baby together," you slowly dropped your hand into the water, your hand finding his as you clasped your fingers with his and pulled out his hand. You brought it up to your baby bump, placing your hand tenderly over his. Geralt's breathing hitched, his huge palm draped protectively over your unborn baby and you smiled at him.

"I'm scared I will disappoint you. We weren't meant to be domestic," He brought your palm up to his lips and planted a warm, chaste kiss on the inside of your palm.

"No you won't. You underestimate yourself. You might be intimidating and cold on the exterior Geralt, but you—" Your smile widened, and Geralt popped his brow up, waiting for you to continue, "You are one big softie secretly."

"No, I'm not," he said, sounding fake serious.

"Oh yes, you are. You're a big bear," you playfully pulled your hand away from his, and splashed him with water. His eyes widened when the splash hit him, his lips pursing together.

"Geralt, I — I'm sorry."

"Oh, no. _This is war._ "

Geralt used his two hands to scoop as much water as he could and splashed you back and you let out a playful screech, "Geralt!"

"What? You called it. _Come on now._ "

Geralt towered over the bathtub, the towel wrapped securely around his waist, covering his manhood. He threw out a palm towards you and you whined; the water was too soothing for your exhausted body. He slowly helped you up, making you stand, and carefully holding you by your waist, he waited for you to step out.

"Worried I'll catch a cold? I'm stronger that that." You drawled.

Once you were out, he slowly turned you towards him and wrapped a towel around your frame, using it to tap dry you all over. 

"You pamper me, love," you smiled, letting your palm rest against your chest as he now worked to dry your hair.

"This is nothing compared to the happiness you are gifting me with." 

You gave him a weak smile as you sat down by the edge of the bed, and slid into your comfortable slip, pulling it over your face and your neck, letting your eyes shut. After a few seconds, you opened your eyes, only to find the Witcher kneeling down between your legs, his eyes on your belly.

"You would never have been possible if it wasn't for your mother," Geralt whispered to your stomach in a tender way, momentarily glancing up into your eyes.

"Mhm, don't listen to the crap this man is feeding you with, Podrick."

"Not with that name again, [Y/N]." Geralt grumbled under his breath, but you could see a hint of a smirk playing on his lips. He let his forehead rest against your bump as he fluttered his eyes shut and inhaled your sweet fragrance, his hands holding you from your hips, "Besides, I have a feeling it's going to be a little girl, with eyes like her mother. She is going to take over on you. Not that I would have it any other way."

"Oh, Witcher, _my Witcher_ ," You pulled him up to sit next to you as you leaned in to kiss him, and he slowly arched forward, his lips melting into yours as he mumbled between the kiss, "You might be a future Queen of Cintra, but you are my queen this day forward."

* * *

Geralt woke up rather abruptly.

He sat up in bed, squirming slightly but when he turned towards you, sleeping peacefully on your side, your arm protectively draped over your beautiful bump, his heart swelled twice the size it was. You looked so innocent, so pure and you were his.

Gently, he pried the covers off, sliding his feet to the edge until the pads of his feet were resting against the cold ground. He stood up, and grabbed his discarded clothes that were strewn all over the floor, sliding into his slacks before he pulled his crumpled tunic over his head.

He turned to look at your sleeping form once before he slowly walked out of the bedroom, ensuring to let the door close as quietly as possible.

He dragged himself downstairs. He was starving after the night, but all he needed was a pitcher of ale to set him up. The tavern was empty, except for one or two men who did not have a steady job, so they had found themselves drinking at the tavern. The usual rush came in the evening.

Holding his pitcher in his left hand, he made his way to a table in the back, that overlooked the window. He sat down, huddling in a corner, bringing the pitcher up to his lips, when someone slammed himself in the chair in front of him.

"Rough night?"

"Talk about yourself, Jaskier, " Geralt smirked, as he brought the pitcher to his lips, eyeing him.

"You look different. You have a glow. Now I am curious. Did [Y/N] gave you a beauty treatment?" He said smugly, letting his elbows rest against the table as he grabbed a piece of meat and tossed it into his mouth.

"I would let her tell you." Geralt murmured, tight-lipped. He would have said more, but something in the back caught his attention, and his jaw dropped. Jaskier, following Geralt's gaze, slowly turned towards the direction where Geralt was looking at and that's when he saw what he was staring at— it was you.

You were standing by the counter, in a long, flowy dress talking to the owner of the tavern. You slowly looked up from whatever you were talking to the owner about, and as though you had felt his eyes on him, you looked right at Geralt, the corners of your lips tugging into a warm smile. Jaskier looked from you back to Geralt, noting the smile that had formed on his friend's lips as you made your way towards him.

"Morning, _husband_. What do we have in here for breakfast? Your baby is starving," you gave Jaskier a wink, and Jaskier's jaw dropped, as he spat out the ale that he was drinking, splashing it all over the table, coughing and hitting his chest as though something was lodged into his throat.

You and Geralt looked at each other, and Geralt sat back, patting on his thigh as you sat doen on his lap, and Geralt locked his arm around you. "What did you say?" Jaskier asked, standing up, his hands on his hips, " _HUSBAND?! You're married now? What happened in that bedroom last night?_ "

Geralt's arm held you steady on his lap and you turned towards him, your nose touching his as you bit your lip, "Well, the Butcher of Blaviken declared he wanted to live his action packed life with me." 

Geralt grumbled under his breath; and you kissed the tip of his nose, biting it teasingly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: okay for those who are wondering if they missed a chapter in between, wherein they got married then no you did not. I didn't write their wedding descriptively. They got married at the inn during the night, which I chose not to write because I had no freaking idea how to😂


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is officially the end of my book, and I want to thank you all for sparing the time to read it. Thank you! 🤍

Geralt grumbled under his breath, yet his movements were quiet; stealthy like a cat as he didn't want to wake you. You were almost due to give birth, and Geralt didn't want to disturb your sleep, because you hardly got any. Although it was strangely pleasing to him to watch you try to pacify your baby, sometimes stroking your bump, or sometimes singing to it, and he didn't want to admit he secretly loved it, he was happy the baby was calm today, and you were peacefully asleep.

He entered your shared bedroom back in your home in Redania where he now mostly spent his time, when he was not out hunting monsters, that was. His armour was soiled with gore, fragments of the kikimora's intestines, and he wanted nothing more than to drown himself into a bath, and relax but he didn't want to wake you up.

The size of the body the man had, silence was the least dominant trait that he had. As he took off his armour, the armour fell from his hand, crashing against the floor with the clatter that woke you up instantly.

"Fuck, who's there?" You almost sat up in bed, grabbing a nearby empty pitcher of water in your grip, ready to throw it at whoever it was.

"It's just me," Geralt frowned at how clumsy he was, immediately bending and picking up his armour. Finally, your eyes adjusted to the lighting of the room, and when you saw him, you slowly slid out of the bed and rushed towards him.

"What have you done to yourself, my love? You look like a piss pot."

"Well—" Geralt grumbled, under his breath, and you ended up chuckling as he tried to shoo you back into bed, waving his hands.

"Didn't mean to wake you, go to bed, [Y/N]."

"It's okay, Geralt. Let me draw your bath," You motioned to him to take off his dirty clothes while you decided to warm some water so he could take a bath.

Geralt didn't let you carry the pails of water yourself, of course and neither could you. In fact, it was difficult for you to climb the stairs owing to the fact that your bump was blocking your view of your feet.

"I can't wait to give birth, Geralt," you mumbled as you sat against the edge of the bed, rubbing a paste that you had created over your swollen ankles, as much as you could bend, while Geralt relaxed in the bathtub, his eyes flicking occasionally towards you and a small smile graced his lips at the sight of you.

When Geralt didn't reply, you lifted your gaze, fixing it on him, noticing how he was staring at you. His lips were curved— so minutely, that only you and Jaskier could understand now, little details about him, like when he was amused, or in a jestful mood. You stood up, letting the vessel down on the bed, and walked up to fix yourself behind your Witcher's back, your hands coming to rest against the base of his neck as you began scrubbing him. Geralt of Rivia's company had taught to treat silence as bliss.

* * *

"What was that?" You frowned as you looked up at the wooden door of your bedroom. You had been sitting against the headboard of your bed, while Geralt was laying on your lap, almost dozed off; your fingers gently stroking through his locks, lulling him into an even deeper sleep. 

The words had barely escaped your lips, and Geralt was up, rigid and alert, like a wolf. He jumped, in one movement, standing by your bed, his hand drawn towards you, his palm raised, motioning you to stay still as he grabbed his sword with the other hand.

"Jaskier? Is that you?" Geralt snarled, but the pounding outside your door didn't stop, and instead it worsened, the loud noise now giving you a headache, forcing you to press your hands against your ears.

Just as Geralt darted towards the door, ready to pull it open and see for himself as to exactly who this intruder was when suddenly, the door flung open, and a Cintran guard tossed Jaskier in, who fell on his knees where Geralt was.

"Geralt! Say something, I am being tossed about like a worthless sack of grain!" Jaskier dramatized, and you hurriedly slid against the edge of the bed while Geralt drew his sword towards the Cintran guard.

The guard turned, regarding you through the armoured helmet that covered his face partially, and then nodded to himself before his voice rang out, "My Queen, the Princess is here, as expected."

"Touch her, I'll break your fucking bones," Geralt growled, his grip on his sword tightening when suddenly, "Lower your weapons! I'm here to talk," a familiar voice commanded, and you knew who it was. You pressed your lips together in a slight anger, both your hands coming to rest protectively against your swollen belly.

Calanthe entered, her eyes falling first thing on the Witcher and her frown widened, before she turned towards you, "Knew I'd find you here."

You bit your lip, eyeing her carefully, when Geralt began speaking, and her head shot towards him.

"If you're here to drag her to that King, it's too late."

You nodded at Geralt's words, immediately rushing to Geralt's side, stepping behind him, grabbing on to his hand that wasn't holding the sword, your fingers entwining with his, "Yes, mother. My baby will not be a bastard anymore."

"I'm not here to ask you to marry Foltest, I'm here to—" she stopped talking, throwing out her hands towards you, trying to nudge you to go to her but you stayed by Geralt's side, "I'm here to take you home. Your Kingdom needs you. I need you. If the Witcher is who you desire then, I give my blessings."

"What?" You and Jaskier said almost together, and you almost choked on a gasp.

"All my life, I thought you were dead and then I found you only to lose you again. Come home, I can't rule a Kingdom anymore, I need you to sit on that throne."

The shock of it all was hard to process. You gasped, tightening your grip on Geralt's hand and he turned towards you with a frown, "You okay?"

"A throne? This is too much."

"You were born for this, [Y/N]." Calanthe continued.

Suddenly, your mind began zoning out the voices, and the voices of Geralt, Calanthe and Jaskier were just background noises to you. You felt something wet slide down the inside of your legs, and your eyes widened. Your breathing laboured suddenly as a sudden cramp tore through your stomach, all too suddenly, and you whelp escaped your lips, causing Geralt to turn towards you.

"I don't think.. I can think of any throne right now.. mother.. I think the baby is coming."

* * *

That was, perhaps, the fastest journey Geralt had made, to the village to get the midwife, while Calanthe stayed with you. 

"I can't believe I'm doing this," Calanthe wiped her sweaty brow with the back of her hand and you growled at her, "Then what exactly am I doing mother? _You are not helping!!_ I would rather have you switch places with Jask'."

"Leave me out of this. I have a history of fainting at the sight of a lot of blood," Jaskier called out from outside the room, and you groaned in pain, and part annoyance, now aware that he was lurking right outside your door. 

You screamed as another contraction tore through your body, the midwife having finally arrived as Calanthe switched positions with her and you felt her squat down by your lower region. You tried breathing, preparing yourself for another crippling contraction, spreading your legs and arching your back, as Calanthe tried to soothe you.

"Geralt, I fucking hate you for doing this to me!" You screamed in pain, even though you knew you would regret this later when you would have your baby pressed to your chest.

The sun set, and the sun rose again the next day; but your screaming didn't die. It was only when the sun was right above your home did the first cries of your girl finally fill your shack. Tears of joy flew freely through your eyes, and your mother's as she pressed the babe to her chest, looking down at her slightly golden eyes in awe.

"She's got Geralt's eyes," she whispered to you, as you let out a sob, and weakly threw out your hands so you would hold her in your arms. She was so tiny, and so perfect, her eyes like Geralt, a tuft of golden white locks already on top of her otherwise bald head.

"Mother, can you take her? I feel.. like all my energy is gone."

"Lay down and close your eyes, child. You've birthed a baby, and that isn't easy as the menfolk think it is. I have her," she took her from your arms, and you smiled weakly at the sight before you let your eyes shut.

* * *

You were in a dreamless slumber, your slumber so deep that even Jaskier playing the lute against your ears would not have been enough to wake you up. 

After a long time, you stirred in your sleep, your eyes slowly fluttering open. 

The sight in front of you, as you propped yourself up against your elbows, made your heart swell with love. Geralt sat on a chair, his eyes pressed shut, his chest rising up and down the only movement that you could see, holding your daughter close to his chest. The little babe looked tiny as compared to the Witcher's bulky frame, yet this was the softest sight you had ever seen. You slid to the edge of the bed, letting the bare pads of your feet brush against the cold floorboards as you pushed your still sore body up. Just then, Jaskier entered the room, his eyes lighting up as he saw you.

You smiled when you saw that he was holding the blanket that you had knitted for the baby when you had found out of the pregnancy.

"Here," he whispered in a low voice so he didn't wake the father and the daughter as.he threw out his hand towards you. You only shook your head and pointed towards Geralt.

"Scared to put it on him?" You joked, your voice a whisper too.

"For the first time, I don't want to ruin the moment," he smiled, as he pulled you into a side hug and you almost sniffled dramatically, pouting, "Well, Jaskier. Aren't you in love?"

"Princess, I'm not ashamed to say I'm in love with her. She is the best thing that's happened to us."

"Oh, Jaskier—" You blurted out, a little too loud, and the Witcher grumbled slightly, stirring frok his sleep as he fluttered his eyes open; the first thing his eyes falling on being the baby in his arms, and then up at you.

Geralt smiled and nodded, as you walked up to him, lowering yourself on his thigh, carefully placing your palm on top of her head.

" _She's perfect, my love_ ," Geralt whispered, and you nodded, wrapping your arm around his neck, letting your head rest against his.

* * *

It was the calm before the storm. 

You stood by the massive window of your chambers, staring at the city ahead of you— Cintra. 

Your Kingdom, your home, which you now ruled, with your Witcher by your side. 

"What are you thinking, love?" 

The familiar rasp of a voice made you turn towards him, a faint smile breaking out against your lips. Geralt was propped on his elbow, his naked chest glistening as a ray of sunshine fell directly on him, his lower body wrapped in the silkiest of the blankets. 

"I have an ill feeling, Geralt." 

"Come to bed, love. Let me make you feel better," Geralt smirked, as he patted on the empty side of your bed but before you could, a loud babble of a baby filled the room. 

Both you and Geralt turned towards the door, watching your one year old taking baby steps towards the two of you. 

"How the hell?" Geralt muttered, when Jaskier darted into the room; his hair unkempt, paint caked on his cheeks and his shirt. He grabbed Fiona in his arms, and swung her up and the little girl cackled in glee, making you grin. 

"Sorry, I was just teaching her how to paint. She ran off with my brushes," he sheepishly grinned before his eyebrow shot up and he eyed Geralt, "Don't let my interference stop whatever the two of you were planning to do. Perhaps, planning a sibling for her." 

Geralt grunted under his breath, while you ended up snorting to his comment, shaking your head, "That's not happening, Jaskier. I'm done with mages and their spells. Now run along, _we've got things to do._ " 


End file.
